


Trent Reznor Oneshots

by HalosandSeeds



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band), Nine Inch Nails (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Angst, Anxiety, Biting, Bloodplay, Blow Jobs, Blue Balls, Body Dysphoria, Body Worship, Bondage, Bottoming, Bottoming from the Top, Breathplay, Breeding, Brother/Brother Incest, Cheating, Cock Slut, Collars, Come Eating, Consensual Abuse, Consensual Kink, Consensual Somnophilia, Cunnilingus, Cunt slapping, Daddy Kink, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Dominance, Double Penetration, Drug Addiction, Drug-Induced Sex, Drugged Sex, Dubious Consent, Edgeplay, Embarrassment, F/M, Father/Son Incest, Fingerfucking, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Foot Fetish, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Incest, Kink, Kissing, Knifeplay, Lactation Kink, Leashes, Light BDSM, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Manznor, Massage, Masturbation, Mirror Sex, Mommy Issues, Mommy Kink, Morning Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Masturbation, Necrophilia, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Pegging, Phone Sex, Piss kink, Praise Kink, Priest Kink, Public Sex, Punishment, Riding, Rimming, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Scratching, Sex Tapes, Sex Toys, Sexting, Sexual Fantasy, Shower Sex, Showers, Size Kink, Sleepy Cuddles, Somnophilia, Spanking, Strap-Ons, Strip Tease, Submission, Teasing, Threesome - F/M/M, Tiddie Fucking, Trans Male Character, Unplanned Pregnancy, Use of the f slur, Vaginal Fingering, Verbal Humiliation, Vibrators, Voyeurism, Watersports, Wax Play, distention, nothing is real, roadhead, surprise oral sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-03-19 10:58:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 217
Words: 114,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13703061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalosandSeeds/pseuds/HalosandSeeds
Summary: I post these to my tumblr, but I also decided to post here in case anyone who isn't on tumblr wants to read them. Enjoy!





	1. Trent Eating You Out

**Author's Note:**

> Some of these will be nsfw and some will be fluffy or sfw with a side of angst. Anyone who has any requests, feel free to send me an ask on my side account on tumblr, trentreznorimagines.

Imagine you come home from an exhausting day at work. You hardly manage to mutter a greeting to Trent and collapse on your bed, heaving a heavy sigh and letting your eyes flutter shut. You hear bare feet shuffling into your room and you smile a little. Your smile widens when you feel the bed shift, and you open your eyes.

Trent’s crawling toward you with _that_ look. You know the one. The one that makes your insides shiver in quite a pleasing way. He knows you’re not up for sex tonight, but he still wants to make you feel good. Tonight, he decides, it’s going to be all about you.

Then you notice what he’s wearing, and you cannot help but blush deeply.

The only thing he has on is a pair of black panties (did he steal your underwear again??) and an oversized sweater. Sweater paws and all.

He’s managed to crawl in between your legs and hover over you, peppering your face with kisses. You shiver when he leans forward, brushing his soft lips against your ear, whispering how he’s going to make you feel so good, better than you’ve ever felt. So just relax.

You feel his lips press against your jaw, then graze your neck, introducing teeth and tongue, and you know you’ll have a few hickies when this is all over. His lips glide over your skin, giving you goosebumps, tickling you, making you sigh until he finally reaches the spot where you really need him.

In no time, your jeans are off and lying somewhere in the room, and you feel the first lick against your cunt, throbbing almost painfully against your underwear. You thought you heard him murmur in an almost drunken way how wet you are, but you are too lost in the already overwhelming pleasure to dwell on it. A kiss below your naval and just above your hipbones is the last bit of innocence he gives you before he has the waistband of your panties between his teeth and is slowly dragging them down, gazing up at you the whole time.

It’s erotic really, but he does it so well.

You hear Trent groan inwardly while he leaves open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs. You’re practically dripping wet, and tentatively, he pulls back to stroke his index finger down your slit, smirking when you twitch against his touch. That perfect tongue flicks out to lick his bottom lip, and he leans in, hot breath against you. You beg for him to just eat you goddamit, and he chuckles, knowing he has you under his thumb tonight.

Trent’s tongue feels like heaven. Literally. Warm and wet, it laves up your cunt, making you squeal at the abrupt contact. That’s all he does at first. Slow licks. Short, little kitten licks. Even he seems to be holding back, though he so desperately longs to devour you. One last lick, and then he begins to lick at your clit, sending your senses on overdrive. His gestures start to grow more and more needy as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

Maybe he murmurs how good you taste while he’s sucking and kissing that bundle of nerves, making rude, sloppy smacking noises, but all you can hear is the sound of you mewling and moaning while he continues to hit that spot.

His hands grip your thighs as you begin to roll your hips into his face, the rhythm of it matching the rhythm of his tongue pumping, fucking in and out of you. He practically buries his face between your thighs because quite frankly that’s where he wants to be at the moment. He loves being the only one who can make you moan like that, moan for him.

Trent hums contentedly against you, and even the vibrations of that bring you closer to the edge. But when his eyes meet yours, just that piercing look and that tongue flicking and caressing your clit makes you scream his name and buck your hips up into his face as you come, each wave of pleasure making you writhe.

Trent holds you steady with one hand flat against your tummy and the other still gripping your thigh, gently stroking your soft flesh with his thumb. He finishes you off, enjoying your whimpers in your high while he cleans you up with his tongue. One final kiss against your sensitive clit, and he rests the side of his face against your thigh, staring at you lovingly.

You both spend the rest of the night wrapped in each others arms, Trent spooning you from behind. Just before you both fall asleep, he whispers goodnight, giving you a good squeeze down there.

He sure knows how to make you squeal.


	2. Rough Sex and Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's a tidal wave.

Fucking Trent is like fucking a tidal wave sometimes. It’s unpredictable, animalistic, wild, passionate, maybe even a little scary, but you love that. It gives you that spice to the relationship, something you can look forward to every time he takes your hand and shoves it down his pants or slams you against the wall with his hand up your skirt, checking to see if you’re wearing any panties.

 

Next thing you know, you’re thrown onto the bed almost like he throws a keyboard, wondering how the hell he managed to get you naked this fast. If you try to sit up, he only shoves you back down with a look that demands obedience or, god help you, there will be consequences. Just a glare like that can make you come on the spot, but Trent has the handcuffs out. You always knew he was a kinky bitch, but your heart still pounds at the thought of being at his mercy.

 

 _Click_ go the handcuffs, and Trent straddles your waist, threatening to fuck you until you can hardly walk. You believe him; he’s never disappointed you before. One thing’s for certain, he can fuck like an animal.

 

You know he’s in that mood. The one where he feels he could go all day. And it seems like he actually could as he pounds into you. He feels perfect when he’s inside of you even if it hurts for a little bit. Over and over again, each thrust is bliss. It’s wild. It’s untamed. It’s ferocious and greedy, greedy for you. Maybe he’s already come inside you, but you can’t be sure. All you can focus on is the steady rhythm of his hips hitting yours, the sound of flesh smacking flesh, that friction of his hard, throbbing cock sliding in and out of you.

 

Trent comes deep inside you again. Is it the second or third or maybe even fourth time? He grabs onto your tits for leverage, and the both of you moan as he spills his seed into you. He collapses on top of you, out of breath. The handcuffs rattle. You can hear his heavy, rasping breaths while he leaves sweet, slow kisses along your tummy. He hasn’t forgotten you; he knows you still need to come and smirks as he rubs your clit relentlessly. Maybe a few fingers deep inside you, and you see stars, coming into his hand.

 

Trent’s fingers still, and he leaves a wet kiss against your cunt before reaching up to remove the handcuffs. He kisses your wrists and caresses your body with his hands. The loving kisses against your lips tell you that the wildest is over, as glorious as it was. After a good fuck like this, Trent always manages to hold you close to him, reminding you of how much he loves you, and fuck, you love feeling the warmth of his sweaty body against your own. The last thing you do before falling asleep in his arms is press your ear to his chest just so you can hear the steady thump of his heartbeat.


	3. Fluff (older Trent)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You make him smile.

The ultimate fluff with Trent would start off with holding hands first. He’s always protective of you and remains by your side whether it be getting through paparazzi or simply walking through the city, hand in hand. If he wants to hold your hand, he’ll do it but for some reason he always asks first. And when he asks, just a hint of a blush crosses over his face, which looks quite adorable with his stubble along his chin and jaw and under his nose. The man looks like he could kill someone with a keyboard and yet he will blush when he asks to hold your hand.

 

If you link arms, you decide to make the move first. Instead of linking arms however, you tend to cling to him. There’s something about the way his arms feel when you touch him there. All that muscle. The warmth of his skin. You feel protected, and it is the best feeling in the world. Plus, it gives you more access to count every single freckle on his arm. And he _loves_ it. You can tell simply by his playful chuckle.

 

When you’re both alone, the couch is the first place you go after a long, tiring day. He doesn’t leave your side and collapses next to you- or rather, on top of you, resting his head against the dip between your neck and shoulder. Countless times, he has fallen asleep there, and you’ve never minded because of three things: he smells _amazing_ , like soap and fresh, light cologne, he practically envelopes you with warmth; the man is basically a furnace, and he never lets you get up until he’s ready to get up. You’re trapped, and you love it.

 

When he wakes up, the first thing he sees is you, and it makes him smile. You love seeing him happy. It’s a thrilling feeling that used to be so rare. You make him happy, and all he has to do is hold your hand to feel ten miles high.


	4. Dominant Trent (older)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's the boss.

Dominant Trent gets tired of your teasing real quick and orders you to get up against the edge of the bed with a deep, rumbling growl, which you know better than to disobey. This side of him gets you weak-kneed and fluttery.

 

As soon as you do, sticking your ass in the air, you feel him press his lower half against you, packing heat already. He’s knows exactly what you wanted, and fuck, he wants it too but he’s not about to give it to you so easily. That’s the punishment, the beauty of how his brimming sensuality can control you so well.

 

The fact of the matter is, he’s not going to let you come until he feels like it. Could be a while.

 

He tells you to keep your ass up. You do so, and you can feel him smirking over you. If you decide to move or you can’t keep it up, Trent muses while he reaches down to rub his entire hand along you, practically dripping wet down there. Well, a sharp slap to your cunt causes you to squeal and you quickly turn to stare at him over your shoulder with lustful eyes.

 

You can only do it for second before he shoves your entire upper body with one hand onto the mattress, nearly smothering your face into the rumpled sheets. The sounds of struggle you make give him plenty of satisfaction while he rubs his fully clothed member between your cheeks, emitting a throaty, heavy sigh of want. You instinctively rut your ass against him without thinking, mentally begging him to touch you between your legs again.

 

You only realize your mistake then.

 

 _Smack!_ Trent clicks his tongue and shakes his head. No. Moving. What did he tell you before?

 

You mewl softly as he strokes the area where he slapped you and turn your head so you can breathe.

 

As much as he loves hearing the sounds you make, he tells you, let’s see if you can stay silent as well while he uses you to get off.

 

Before you know it, you’re whining again, this time in protest. God, you can already feel yourself getting closer. The thorough slap to your cunt makes you jump before you can help it, and you brace yourself for the next one. It’s going to be a long day.


	5. Phone Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two of you can't seem to stay away from each other.

Trent: **picks up after the first ring** _Hey, kitten._

You: I miss you. **you hear him smile**

Trent: _I miss you, too (Y/N). It’s only just one more week. I’ll be home before you know it._

You: It’s been pretty boring around here without you.

Trent: **laughs** _I’m sure._ **pauses** _Have you been a good girl while I’ve been gone?_

You: Not… exactly.

Trent: **growls** _How so? Do I need to punish you when I get home?_

You: **grins** Oh yes. I need to be punished desperately. I’ve been touching myself. I just miss you so much. I wish it was you touching me.

Trent: _…_

You: Trent? You still there?

Trent: **breathes against the mouthpiece** _Are you touching yourself now?_

You: **smiles** Yes, I am. I’m imagining it’s your fingers instead of mine. **whimpers a little**

Trent: **you hear him breathing a little heavier into the mouthpiece** _Does it feel good?_

You: It would feel better if you were with me. **moans**

Trent: _Fuck, I love hearing you make those noises for me. Let me hear more?_

You: Mm… yes, Trent. Feels so good.

Trent: _How many fingers?_

You: **grunts** Two…

Trent: _Fuck, kitten. So good for me. Bet you wish it was my cock inside you._ **you hear a restless back forth shifting on the other end and smile to yourself**

You: **whines** Please…

Trent: _You want my cock, princess?_

You: Yes… Please, Trent.

Trent: _Fuck, say my name again._

You: Trent… I need you.

Trent: _God, I wish I was there._ **groans** _I’m close, (Y/N)- shit!_

You: Come for me, baby.

Trent: **moans long and low** _God, kitten, you’ll feel so good around my cock. You close yet?_

You: **whimpers** Mhmm… ‘M gonna come…

Trent: _I’ll fuck you so hard when I get there. Fuck you till you’re screaming for me. Bury my hard, thick cock deep in your wet cunt and fill you up with my cum until it’s dripping out of you._

You: Fuck… Fuck! I’m coming! **breathing staggers**

Trent: _Jesus, I wish I could see you like this, kitten. I’d clean you up so good. Lick every drop of your cum from that pretty pussy of yours._

You: … You’d drink the honey inside my hive?

Trent: **sighs** _Shut up. Now you’re really gonna get punished when I get home._

You: **giggles**


	6. Trent Holding You and Kissing You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love confession.

When Trent tells you he loves you for the first time, he doesn’t say it first; he monologues. He could write paragraphs, songs of why he loves you before he actually says it, and you can already tell what he’s trying to say when he starts blushing deep shades of crimson, shifting on his feet, and running his hands through the fluffy dark mop of lion mane hair he can’t seem to tame.

 

Fuck it, he finally mutters after another five minutes of stammering and stumbling and kisses you, full on the mouth.

 

And _fuck,_ his lips are so soft. They mold and form and melt to yours perfectly, like they were always meant to be there. He kisses you again and again and again, and each kiss is rough and almost needy, like he just can’t get enough of you, like he’s hungry for you almost. You drown in the caresses of his lips and sigh with each breath you take in between them.

 

His hands find your body. His arms wrap around your waist and pull you close, fingers gently massaging and stroking the small of your back. Then his hand moves up to hold the back of your neck and pull you even closer so that your bodies press together. He feels so good against you. Warm. Safe. Perfect. But there’s a sense of innocence to this that combines with his intense need for you. The innocence forms to the emotion, and the emotion, strong and powerful, speaks through the words he finally whispers in your ear.

 

“I love you.”


	7. Daddy Kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You'll do whatever he says.

You’ve been a bad girl, and you thought you could get away with it, but he found out. He always finds out, and this time he isn’t going to let you off the hook.

The way Trent looks at you sends shivers down your spine; if his eyes were daggers, you’d be dead already. He orders you to come to him and when you hesitate, his gaze pierces you and he growls deep, letting you know he’d rather not repeat himself.

As soon as you get close enough, he pats his lap, but his eyes remain stern, and you know what he wants. You bend at the waist and let out a soft squeak just as he yanks you down over his knee. You made this easy for him, he remarks as he tugs your panties sharply down to your ankles and invasively rubs his hand over your bare ass. You whimper; it feels good, a little too good because you know exactly what he has in mind for you.

You’re told to count.

_Smack!_

You squeal before you can let out a number.

One…

…Daddy.

You comply with the honorific and feel a blush rise to your cheeks, but you somehow know that your ass will be much redder than your face in the next few spanks to come.

_Smack!_

Twenty… Daddy.

Despite how warm Trent’s hands are, they feel incredibly cool against the red, welting skin of your ass. That’ll teach you to touch yourself without Daddy’s permission.

Your punishment turns Trent on; you can feel it against your stomach, and he lets you down, revealing the obvious bulge in his leather pants. You know you want to suck Daddy’s cock as a reward for taking your punishment so well. He lets you but not without taking a tube of black lipstick that he has worn so many times on stage. He brands you with it, humming contentedly. Trent looks over you enveloping his hard cock in your mouth to admire his latest work. It looks good on you, if he must say so himself.

**Daddy’s Little Slut.**


	8. Pegging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Trent wants you to top him.

This time you finally get to take control, and Trent’s already naked and lying on the bed, waiting for you. He immediately sits up once he sees you, and you swear you can almost see the beginnings of a rosy pink blush fan out over every inch of his beautiful body. There’s a boost of confidence for you, and you flash him an easy smile, removing your robe and showing off the large black strap-on. Trent sucks in a breath and gives you room so you can crawl towards him. His eyes remain on the toy almost hungrily. You can’t help but chuckle.

 

You kiss passionately, and you can feel your control strengthen every time you hear him moan in a needy way in your mouth.

 

Pushing him on his back feels good. Watching him make that desperate expression feels even better. Fuck, feeling him rut against the strap-on is the best thing in the world. You get to do whatever you want with him tonight, and he fucking _wants_ it. He spreads his legs voluntarily and begs you with those green doe eyes of his.

 

You’ve never felt this deep inside of him. It seems invasive but he’s definitely allowing you to do this to him, for him. When you reach deeper, something inside of him makes him tighten around your fingers and he mewls, high-pitched and even more desperate.

 

The noise alone leaves you wanting more, and you command him to sit up on his knees, the toy staring him in the face. Trent knows exactly what to do with it. It’s quite a sight to see, him sucking on the strap-on avidly and taking a couple loud slurps to glance up at you. Those large eyes plead for more, and fuck, you can’t say no to that. But you want something to make this even more kinky than it already is.

 

You want him to top you. And not in _that_ way.

 

Watching Trent sink down on your “cock” is glorious, thrilling, maybe a little empowering, and you sigh in bliss. He steadies himself with one hand fisting the mattress and flings his head back, dreads flying while he pumps up and down on top of you. It’s fucking amazing, you think, the way he takes that toy all the way down until he hits the spot.

 

He can’t stop apologizing and stammering after he comes all over your chest. You don’t mind; there was nothing hotter than him twitching and whimpering in his high on top of you.

 

It’s okay, you assure him. You just make him lick it up afterwards.

 

You didn’t know having a fucktoy could be this fun.


	9. Awkward Kink Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You'll do anything he wants to do- even if it means humiliating him.

You know Trent wants to tell you something when he shuffles his feet or flips his hair distractedly. If he’s sitting cross-legged, he’ll touch his legs… and continue to touch them as if there are bugs crawling all over him. There’s something on the tip of his tongue, but for some reason, he just can’t tell you.

This bothers you a bit. You tell each other everything, and now it seems as though he is deliberately avoiding talking to you. That simply won’t do.

You decide to bug him, tease him a little. Tiptoe your fingers along his bicep while you urge him to tell you, fluffing his hair and tracing areas of his face, periodically poking his nose and giggling when he wrinkles it. Trent finds your curiosity and displays of affection amusing, but his discomfort outweighs everything else, and you can tell. You finally threaten to abstain from sex until he tells you what’s up, and there’s that gleam in his eye, the one where he assumes you’re probably bluffing, but joke’s on him.

You’re not.

He starts with the shifting again; it’s impossible for Trent to stay still when he’s this uncomfortable and on edge. He starts to talk but only manages to stammer out a few “um’s” and “well’s” and “uh’s”. All quite cute, but you’re losing your patience; you’ll die if he doesn’t tell you. Anything that bothers him is your business; you feel you have an obligation to know.

One raised eyebrow from you and Trent gives up, knowing he’ll never win. Now he’s red in the face and muttering things like “look… I just have this fantasy of you…”

Yes?

“Well, it’s so taboo and… really disgusting…”

_Yes?_

“Don’t pressure me! I… I want… Oh, fuck! I want you… to piss on me…”

Well! There we go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?

Trent has his head in his hands, groaning loudly, willing himself to die of utter embarrassment and humiliation. You realize now is the time to make him feel better, get him comfortable. You shift to the side a little on the couch, inching closer. Leaning in, you ask him to elaborate.

He wants to be dominated in this way. He wants to be forced, leaning over the toilet seat, leather harness equipped while you grip handfuls of his hair and hold his head down. He wants a stiletto digging into his back while you muse aloud on how you could just let go all over him. And to top it off, he wants to feel your warm piss cascading in that glorious golden shower, soaking his hair, dripping down his neck and back, reminding him that he wants this, that he longs to be used and abused like this. Maybe he will even let you piss in his mouth. Just a little.

Okay, you say simply. He blinks.

Okay?

Apparently he doesn’t realize how willing you are to cater to this eccentric need of his.

You’re more than willing to make Trent your little piss baby.


	10. Nipple Play

Trent doesn’t just start attacking your tits with his mouth as soon as you get going, but he does get there eventually. He’s slow and sensual when he wants to be. Remember that microphone? You’re the microphone, and Trent’s glorious tongue laves down the middle of your chest, so close to where you want him. He uses his fingers first, stimulating your nipples in slow, agonizingly slow circles that you cannot help but moan inwardly. You feel him smile against your skin, and you shiver, nearly keening when he takes one nipple into his mouth while the other remains alert by his skillful fingers. That fucking tongue is all you can feel at the moment, moving in slow swirls and flicking playfully, making you squeal. You can finally live out your fantasy of Trent Reznor tonguing your nipples the way he tongues that goddamn microphone.

 

Trent’s nipples are sensitive. The moment you touch them with the slightest hand gesture, goosebumps fan out over his white skin and he shifts a little, maybe letting out a satisfied grunt, urging you on. You flick at them just to be a tease, and he automatically grips your hips with that amused yet thoroughly aroused expression on his face. That’s when you get down to business, rubbing them both with your thumbs and leaning down to envelope one in your mouth, kissing it sloppily and grinning to yourself at the heavy, pleased sigh that escapes his perfect lips. You do the same to the other, and Trent leans his head back, instinctively rutting against you gently. Knowing he’s getting hard makes you daring. You lave one nipple with your tongue and gently pull at it with your teeth. This earns you a throaty sigh and a low groan, and you do the same to the other, slowly rocking your hips against his crotch and feeling him getting harder and more desperate with each breath he takes. Maybe you’ll let him come. And then again, maybe you won’t, leaving him thoroughly teased.


	11. Manznor Spanking Imagine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For all you Manznor fans.

If Trent were ever to spank Brian, it would be a light tap to the butt in passing. Nothing punishing. Hardly any meaning to it. Just a “hey, you’ve got a cute, round ass and I wanna touch it”. Points to Trent if Brian responds in any way. Most of the time, he’s caught off guard and then turns to Trent to bat his thick lashes at him flirtatiously. “Go ahead and do that again, I dare you.”

If Brian’s the one doing the spanking, if the tables have turned entirely, Trent is the one completely compromised, either bent over a table or the bed or simply sprawled across Brian’s lap, ass in the air, utterly naked, and awaiting his punishment. Brian starts off by gently brushing his fingers over his cheeks, maybe tracing little hearts along his white skin just to tease him a little. He enjoys the sound of Trent purring at his touch. Just small noises, whimpers, hums, and soft moans. Brian kneads his ass with his hands before giving him a light tap. Trent squeals at the sudden contact, and then Brian gives his instructions.

No moving.

No noises.

Count.

Thank me each time.

If none of these rules are met, the punishment will continue until Trent decides he will be the perfect, obedient sub.

By the time he’s reached twenty, Trent is weak-kneed, hard, trembling, and drooling over the seat of the couch on Brian’s lap. His ass is a pretty shade of pink, and marveled, Brian traces a finger down to touch him there. On impulse and without thinking, Trent raises his ass for more contact with an aroused moan.

Brian clicks his tongue, and his hand comes down. It leaves an evident, white handprint, and he hums contentedly at the sight of it.

Ten more.


	12. Naughty Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't test him. He knows how to have fun too.

Tonight’s a special night for you both. This isn’t the first time Trent has been nominated for an award’s show, and you can’t be more proud of him. You both get ready for what you assume will be a prestigious event, Trent in his tux and you in the royal blue dress he bought for you. Trent takes you in, and you do the same, adoring how handsome and well-groomed he looks just for tonight. Perfect. Beautiful.

Fuckable.

You lust after him tonight even though you are fully aware he desires a perfect night with no antics whatsoever. God knows what he would do to you if you ever so happen to act up once on this special night. With that thought alone, you shiver. Trent is a perfectionist, and you are a trouble maker. Simply knowing that assures you that you will be thoroughly fucked and covered in love bites and bruises before the night is over. Yes.

Tonight is definitely not the night to be a good girl. Especially if you can come home to that.

The night begins smoothly. You both are seated at your table and the awards go by. You hardly pay attention; thinking about your evil plan leaves you unfocused, and twice already, Trent has asked if you are okay. You will be more than okay soon. By the time there is a lull in show, you decide to make your move, knowing he won’t be able to resist it. Hopefully, you can get him completely hot and bothered before the show ends. You glance at Trent.

The man sips his wine, utterly unaware of what you have up your sleeve, and that’s when you move your hand off the table and slowly towards his thigh. He doesn’t notice at first… until you move higher, rubbing his inner thigh lovingly, sensually.

Trent, after gulping down a large sip of his drink, calmly puts down the wine glass and takes your hand in his, giving it a good, hard squeeze. Too hard. He turns to look at you, and those green eyes are stern, screaming consequences if you so happen to fuck this up. To save face, he feigns a softened demeanor and raises your crushed hand to his lips, kissing your skin between the knuckles and then letting you go carelessly as if nothing happened.

You pout and slump in your seat, cursing him silently as he chuckles at your expense. Then you grin evilly and slide closer to him just as he takes another sip of his wine. He’s so warm down there and you squeeze without a second thought. Trent chokes audibly and slams the glass down, catching the attention of a few. That’s when you begin to rub, up and down, slowly, so slowly. He stares at you in disbelief, practically begging you with his eyes, but you are unrelenting, and a held back moan escapes his lips before he can smother it.

Trent buries his face in his hands mostly to keep anyone else from witnessing the state you have him in. In the minutes that pass, you feel him stiffen as he comes in his pants. He lifts his head to glare at you, and now you know you’re fucked.

Quietly he excuses himself and heads to the bathroom in the back. You follow him obviously. Maybe he wants to fuck in the bathroom?

As soon as you get there, he shoves you against the wall and kisses you hard, biting lips, pulling hair, yanking on the fabric of your dress. Trent sighs in satisfaction when he realizes you aren’t wearing any panties.

Perfect, he says. This will make this a lot easier. He spreads your legs further with his knees, and something plastic and cold makes its way into you. Before you can squeal, Trent’s hand is over your mouth while he presses a button on the remote in his other hand.

That’s when you definitely start to make noise.

Don’t take it out, he warns, or he’ll put you in chastity for a week.

This is your punishment, and you whine as he begins to walk out, throwing the remote in the air and catching it nonchalantly.

You count down the seconds desperately. The rest of the awards show is going to take longer than you thought.


	13. Surprise Masturbation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naughty boy.

You hear it first before you open the door. Heavy breathing. Small whines and breathy whimpers. Deep, short grunts and long moans. The distinct sound of skin slapping and rubbing against skin. You know exactly what he’s doing in there, and you smile.

Sure enough, when you open the door a crack, there’s Trent up against the wall of his room, pumping up and down on his fully erect cock frantically. One hand is in his hair, running through his dark tendrils, and a thin film of sweat has already formed on his forehead. Slowly, that hand moves down and snakes up his shirt, and more of those adorable noises in heat fall from those beautiful lips.

You stare at the way his brow furrows while he strokes himself down. Those pretty green eyes are shut tight, and his nostrils flare while his breath comes out short. You admire his cupid’s bow (one of your favorite features of him) as his lips press together and almost moan with him as a broken sob-like moan erupts from his mouth.

The sounds he makes start to become desperate; you hear it in his husky voice as it rises to a higher pitch. He’s close, and that’s when you make your move and open the door.

Trent practically jumps ten feet at the sight of you, and his face turns many different shades of red when he realizes he’s been caught. All at once, he begins to stammer and babble and try to explain himself as coherently as possible while attempting to tuck himself back into his pants.

He fails miserably.

You grin smugly and approach him slowly. He takes in the sight of your hips sashaying sensually as you get closer, and wordlessly, Trent backs up against the wall, resuming his prior position.

You watch the goosebumps form along his pale skin, and he shivers against the pleasant sensation of your breath against his neck. You croon in his ear, offering little encouragements and sweet nothings. Keep going, you say in a hushed tone. You want to watch. In fact, you want to help as your hand encloses around his quivering shaft.


	14. Trent Tying You Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's your sex he can smell.

Trent asks you if you are comfortable.

You only release a muffled moan and shift on your toes.

He has you tied up, wrists bound in handcuffs and raised high over your head, connecting to a hook in the ceiling. You are completely naked, vulnerable for his pleasure and utterly sensitive to his gentle, feathery touches as he blindfolded you earlier. Your quivering mouth is restrained by a red ball gag, and Trent smirks at the ridiculous way your mouth hangs open while he runs a single finger down past your lips.

Sweet kitten all tied up tight, he murmurs against your skin, warm breath tickling your cheek, his hair brushing lightly against your neck. He wants to hear you purr. He decides he’s going to make you purr one way or another.

Fingers stroke tenderly along your collarbone and slide down between your breasts, forcing a whimper out of you. Now his breath is hot against your trembling flesh. You feel his heat, his need to touch you just from the tips of his fingers and lean into the gentle caress, hearing him chuckle lightly. He’s getting so close, you practically whine for his touch there. The squeal that erupts from your mouth surprises even you as soon as his fingers enter you, stroking your insides.

The feeling of it isn’t foreign to you, but you moan eagerly, and the noises you make grow more and more high pitched with each curl of his fingers. Trent’s breath hits your face while he fucks you with his fingers, and his husky voice resonates within your ears while he whispers soft encouragements. All of a sudden, his thumb rubs against your clit, and his warm, wet tongue laves its way up your tit, playing with you like he played with the microphone from Closer. The sensation is too much, and you come in his hand, mewling softly against the gag while he milks you through it.

Trent gasps slightly and hums in approval as he slides his fingers out of you. Undoing the ball gag, he shoves them in your mouth with one order: suck. You moan appreciatively as you taste yourself on his fingers, and he kisses your cheek sweetly, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear.

It’s not over yet, he reminds you, readjusting the gag between your spit slicked lips.

You do know he wants to see you come more than once, right?


	15. Trent Covered in Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's better than Trent fucking you in a graveyard? Trent fucking you covered in blood.

It looks like gore had rained from the ceiling and cascaded over his body, covering him in sleek crimson from head to toe, his pale flesh strained red, his ebony hair dripping in it, sticking to his face. For some reason, it turns you on immensely as you finish dumping his share of the contents over his body.

Trent takes your hands in his and uses them to rub the red over his flesh, covering every single inch, blotting out the white. You can hear his breathing grow heavier when you reach places you are not afraid to reach. He shoves you down on your back with a satisfied smirk and runs his hands, covered in the substance, over your body. Nothing sexier than feeling the blood smear over your skin, almost as if you had killed someone yourself. The thought of it seems thrilling, nearly as thrilling as the intimate feeling of Trent’s strong, warm hands rubbing and caressing every part of your body with it.

A flushed heat washes over your body, intensifying as his hands and fingers inch lower and lower to where you can really shudder and twitch for him. A film of sweat forms over you as well, mixing in with the red and his hands. Trent touches you, and you are almost certain the sensory overload could kill you the way you tremble and writhe beneath him. It would be a glorious death underneath the crimson-stained body of Trent Reznor.

Trent rests on top of you, grinding against you while his fingers work you from the inside out. It seems he wants to cover you in red completely, mixing with you in this obscene display of blood red lust. His fingers give one last deep thrust inside you making you squeal and then he pulls out of you gently, pressing his swollen red lips against your neck before applying his tongue and making you shiver even more.

Taking those fingers into his mouth, he tightens his lips around them and pulls away with a loud slurp and pop, sighing at the taste. His eyes glitter and darken over your heated and shivering frame.

Mm… Pussy and corn syrup. Delicious.


	16. Slow, Gentle Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can be gentle too.

When Trent wants you, sometimes he wants you nice and slow, gentle and insistent. If you just need him tonight, that’s all he will be for you. His touches are soft to start with, as if he thinks of you like glass; he doesn’t want to break you and handles you with care and love. Caresses against your cheek, down your neck, along your jaw. It makes your skin tingle with excitement, his touch. Then his lips are upon you, resting against yours, softly, so soft. You press back against him urgently, but then his lips trail down your jaw and against the side of your neck, sucking gently, and then moving along your collarbones, pressing light, sweet kisses on your trembling flesh.

His arms wrap around you in a tight embrace, he just can’t bring himself to let you go, and he holds you close, just breathing in your scent and groaning inwardly at how good you make him feel, how precious you are to him. That love is real; it’s genuine. When Trent is passionate about something, he takes care of it, he cherishes it, and that’s how he feels about you right now.

Trent’s fingers go to work and remove everything with care and ease, but you can still feel the sensuality he exudes. He sucks in a breath at the sight of you before him, lying on the bed, and his eyes wander to the rise and fall of your chest, mesmerized at just how beautiful you are. He crawls in between your legs and rests both hands against your flushed cheeks. The kiss on your nose makes you giggle. Trent loves your laugh, and he smiles before pressing his mouth against yours a bit more urgently than the last time.

He gets undressed himself and then adjusts your thighs so that they rest against his hips. You automatically wrap your legs around him, crossing at the ankles and wrap your arms around his neck, tenderly stroking his dark tendrils, pushing them back, running your fingers through it. You keep your eyes locked with his, and then Trent enters you, slowly, taking you with every inch, and you feel him inside you, going in deeper, in the most intimate way. Your breath hitches in your throat as he reaches inside you up to the hilt.

Trent holds his arms on either side of your head to balance himself and releases a deep sigh at the feel of your warmth engulfing him. You feel amazing, he tells you, and you gasp as he begins to roll his hips, moving gently inside of you. This isn’t just fucking to you both; this is the art of making love, and Trent makes sure to show his love to you just by kissing you, by stroking your hair, even by the way he feels inside of you. Nothing has felt better.

When you climax together, he falls against you, pressing his entire weight on top of you. You drown in his warmth, a warm place. The perfect place to be in. In his arms, holding you, kissing you, feeling the heat that radiates between the two of you.

He whispers “I love you” in your ear, and you believe him.


	17. Surprise Oral Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you think of a better way to wake up?

You’re still asleep by the time Trent returns to bed, and he sighs, absolutely bored out of his mind. The sun is shining, the day is new, and he’s actually in a positive mood today despite all the music he has to write for the next album. Trent flops down on the bed next to you with a deep sigh and turns to look at your sleeping form, running his fingers tenderly through your hair and a hand down your cheek. You hardly stir, and his boredom increases until he gets an idea.

A slow, easy smile spreads across his face, and Trent slides under the covers, positioning himself on his stomach between your legs and spreading them a little. He presses a warm kiss to your inner thigh and hears you sigh in your sleep, smiling contentedly. He does the same to the other thigh, this time flicking his tongue out at your flesh, breathing in the sweet scent of your body.

You begin to stir, especially at the quick kisses he trails up your skin and hovers over where he really wants to place his mouth.

You feel his tongue first and gasp softly as your eyes flutter open. All you can see is the small mound underneath the sheets and feel the movement in between. His hands you feel first, smoothing up your thighs, and you feel him spread you apart before he laves his tongue along the place that makes you quiver and moan. Your brain wakes up along with the rest of your body, and you tremble against his mouth, your lips parting in bliss at the good morning wake up he is giving you.

His skillful tongue doesn’t quit. It flicks at your clit mercilessly, and you twitch and moan against his consistent ministrations. When he enters you with it, you whimper and whine his name, urging him on while he chuckles and hums against you, the hums vibrating against your cunt while his tongue continues to work and suck against your most sensitive areas. As soon as his lips and tongue suck at your clit, you begin to thrash, crying out his name and mewling for more, more of his mouth, more of his hands and his tongue and the feel of his smug smile against your flesh.

You come in his mouth with a gasp and a silent moan while Trent milks you with his tongue and fling your head back into the pillows until your high subsides. He offers a sweet kiss down there while you quiver and then finally emerges from under the covers, kissing you softly, making you taste yourself in his mouth.

You wouldn’t mind waking up from that again that’s for certain.


	18. Mariqueen and Trent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This imagine that involves two real people does in no way portray the actual personalities and characteristics of them. The acts, events, and characteristics are purely fictional. Nothing that is portrayed in this imagine actually happened. Please note that the honorific of ‘mommy’ in this is nothing more but an honorific.

“Please, mommy…” Trent whines and lets out another noise of protest when Mariqueen places a hand on his back and shushes him soothingly. She shoves the plug in deeper, ushering a whimper out of her toy and stands back to watch, eyes glittering at her creation.

Trent lies on the mattress on his stomach, completely naked and shifting restlessly. Mariqueen thinks its cute how his butt squirms at the strange feeling of the toy inside him and raises an eyebrow when he desperately begins humping the sheets and pillows, attempting to get off quickly before she catches him.

“Naughty boy,” she lilts, pressing a sharp stiletto-ed foot into his back. Trent groans, practically begging for more. “Up. Hands and knees. Be a good boy and obey mommy.”

Trent obeys her order and turns around, staring at her with large puppy dog eyes, pleading for release. He can’t help himself; her dominance arouses him and makes his cock ache and throb uncontrollably. Mariqueen knows this and smirks wider, especially when she sees realization cross his face at what she has presented for him. Trent’s mouth waters at the sight of the large, black strap-on staring at him.

“Suck, baby. Take your medicine.”

Trent complies, humming in a docile way as his mouth stretches around the toy and slides inch by inch down the shaft. He stays down for a minute before coming back up with a slurp and a pop. The hand at the back of his head shoves him back down while Mariqueen’s soft, sensual voice encourages him. Once the toy is slick, she orders him to rest against the headboard, his arms raised, and she nearly groans inwardly at the sight of him, chest rising and falling, mouth red, wet, and raw, eyes pleading wordlessly. The only thing left is the handcuffs.

“Please fuck me, mommy,” Trent murmurs with a small moan, tugging at his restraints and Mariqueen can’t say no to that.

Trent sucks in a breath when she enters him slowly, and Mariqueen sighs as the strap-on tightens around her a little, the material rubbing against her with each thrust inside of him. Each thrust sends her as much pleasure as it gives him, and even the noises he makes sends her closer to the edge. Trent can feel the toy brush against his sweet spot, and he gives a short cry, mouth parted in ecstasy. Leaning forward so that her lips graze against his ear, Mariqueen whispers soft, sweet nothings and encouragements that send shivers running up and down his spine.

“Good slut. Come for mommy.”


	19. Loyal Girlfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're so proud of him.

He just looks so _good_ out there, in his element, performing his passion, practically _making love_ to the music he sings to and plays.

Trent exudes music. You’d be jealous if it turned out to be a long lost girlfriend or something. Him and music, they are like the sun and the moon, two separate things of this world yet connected, and you watch from the sidelines in awe, mouth parted at the emotion and passion that bursts from his lips.

The stage is small, and maybe the acoustics aren’t that great, and they look like a college-drop out band (which, that is exactly what they are), but they are your college-drop out band and that is your boyfriend, the lead singer, singing his heart out with everything he has, with feel and soul. At this point in time, all eyes are on him, the kid just trying to make it through with his music, and so are yours. Your eyes are glued to him, brimming with love and encouragement. You’ve come to support him with everything you had, knowing that making music is all he wants to do in life.

Trent’s eyes turn to stare at you while he sings, and they linger, the crinkles of a smile forming around them. You smile back, a huge smile and clap enthusiastically when the band finishes.

There were so many things wrong on stage tonight, he begins to say as he removes the guitar from his shoulders backstage.

You put a finger to his lips and kiss them.

Shut up. You’re perfect. You slide a hand up his bare chest underneath his enormous leather jacket and smirk, your eyes glittering up at him. What a stud. You grin, and he grins back, blushing when he averts his eyes away. Shy, you think, after he had radiated so much wild sensuality and confidence just moments before. It is almost humble because you know more than anyone that he wants to be better, even better.

You press your lips against Trent’s in another reassuring kiss, letting him know in this way that you will always be there to support him in all that he does.

After all, your boyfriend is a rockstar now.


	20. Abuse Kink, Aftercare, and Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He'll take care of you.

This is quite the degrading position you have found yourself in. Here you are on your knees facing the headboard with your wrists tied tight to one of the rungs. You acted before like you hated it, being restrained in this way, but secretly, you love the way the rope digs into your wrists, the way Trent’s grip on your hips leaves bruises into your skin. He’s rough with you tonight, and you love it.

You wiggle some, but he’s behind you, warm mouth against your ear, teeth nipping at your ear lobe as he growls in a threatening tone to stay the fuck still. With firm hands, Trent grasps the waistband of your jeans and yanks them down, flinging them aside and going for your panties next. You whimper and hear him chuckle as he tugs at them harshly. If you fight, you could get some more action, and one swift kick directed at Trent’s groin does not go unnoticed by him. Unfortunately for you, you miss, and his fists wrap around your ankles, tightening harder and harder and harder until you’re certain he’s stopped the blood flow.

Big mistake, he growls, balling up your panties and shoving them in your mouth. You gag but feel your heart pound at the adrenaline rush this is giving you. One hand goes in your hair and pulls, ushering a squeak out of you and instantly, two fingers enter you without warning, and you groan. To Trent, it sounds a little more strangled against the gag.

Yeah, you like that. You like being a fuckhole to use. A fuckhole to come inside. That’s all you are, just a fuckhole for his throbbing, hard cock rubbing between your thighs. The rough, vicious tug at your hair and his fingers ramming themselves deeper inside you tells you he wants an answer, and you nod frantically.

Trent’s cock enters you in one swift motion, and you squeal. A husky ‘shut the fuck up, slut’ rasps in your ear, and both of his hands grasp and squeeze at your ass while he pounds into you. Here you are completely naked while he fucks you wildly, mercilessly, fully clothed. It’s degrading, but you absolutely love it. Yeah. Of course, you love this, you fucking, dirty whore, Trent smirks.

He pulls out only to flip you over, twisting the rope and making you hiss as the harsh nylon rubs against your skin. Trent wants you to come; he fucking orders you to come with a vicious slap across your face and his fingers rubbing violently against your clit. The hand wrapped around your throat urges you to orgasm instantaneously, and you practically scream, muffled against the gag, your face throbbing, your legs quivering.

Trent feels you tighten around him, and it sends him over the edge but not before he quickly pulls out of you, stroking himself down and releasing all over your stomach and tits. Just before he finishes, Trent rips the panties out of your mouth and demands you keep it open as the last drops of his cum drip onto your tongue.

Then it’s all over.

Trent unties the rope and throws it to the side, his eyes asking, soft yet insistent. You nod, needing him, and he envelopes you in his arms, kissing your palms and wrists rubbed raw. All over you he leaves sweet, gentle kisses, bringing you back to reality, back to his loving touch. You melt into his touch, burying your face into his chest, and you feel the tone of his husky, honeyed voice vibrate when he asks if you are all right. You simply nod, happy to just be this close to him, knowing how much he loves you. The thrill of the role-play excites you, leaves you fulfilled, but his arms wrapped around you remind you of the passion and love between the two of you.

He kisses your wrists again and then your hands, your cheeks, nose, eyelids, and finally your lips, reminding you one last time before you both fall asleep in each other’s arms.


	21. Roadhead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing to see here. Just a pleasant drive down the freeway.

Yeah. Trent has a silver Porsche, and the first thing he wants to do is take you for a ride. You can’t say no to that.

Instead of blasting “Closer” like Brian told you he would, Trent hits the power button, playing Depeche Mode’s “Behind the Wheel”, and you snort. Typical Trent. He looks rather cute with his tinted sunglasses as he turns to look at you with a smirk. The both of you speed away, burning rubber, tires screeching against the asphalt.

It’s invigorating. Almost orgasmic, and you lean back against the plush leather of your seat and sigh. Trent notices and reaches out to touch your thigh, stroking it with his thumb. It turns you on immensely even though he probably didn’t mean for it to, and you glance sideways at him lustfully. His eyes are on the road, a small smile playing at his lips, and you grin like the Cheshire Cat, offering him the same gesture only this time moving closer and closer to where you know you can get some embarrassing noises out of him. His smile fades, and his mouth drops slightly, a breathy gasp escaping his perfect lips.

That is all you need from him as you lean to the side and press your lips against his cheek, bending slowly down towards his crotch.

Trent feels you unzip his fly and snaps his head down once to catch what you are doing with a startled expression on his face. You giggle and take out his semi-hard cock. His breath hitches in his throat, and he moans long and low as soon as you gently suck on the head, feeling him quiver around you, around your mouth, around your fingers stroking and caressing softly yet insistently. You watch as his stomach presses in and out in short stresses, and you silently enjoy his suffering.

This can’t be easy for him. Trent’s eyebrow’s furrow together, and he almost closes his eyes while he grips the steering wheel extra tight, but one swerve off the road, and he quickly snaps back to reality.

The thing is, you decide not to stop and plunge your mouth down, emitting loud slurping and smacking noises against the rev of the engine. Trent shudders out your name and presses a hand to your head, caressing your hair with his fingers almost frantically. With your mouth and throat tightening around his pulsating cock, you feel his hot cum shoot down your throat unexpectedly and remember to swallow, taking huge gulps, downing every last drop he gives you.

Trent gives one last shudder and lets his head fall back against the headrest of his seat, eyes wide, utterly in shock, blissful shock at what has just occurred.

You giggle softly and press another kiss to his cheek before reaching to turn up the music.


	22. A Threesome with the God of Fuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dream come true.

Trent says a special friend of his will be arriving soon, and you feel your heart thud in anticipation. You’ve heard him mention a threesome at some point this week, and with this “friend” coming over, you cannot help but feel a little excited at the prospect of getting fucked by two guys. Or maybe the guest will be a woman? Whatever the case, you nod and smooth your dress, taking another sip of your wine while Trent watches you. There’s some sort of gleam in his eyes that darkens with lust as his eyes rake over your body.

Perhaps Trent’s friend will walk in just when he decides to bend you over the table and rail you from behind. Oh, what a sight that would be, and you blush while he smirks.

The doorbell rings, and Trent gets up to answer but not before casting one last hungry look in your direction.

You thought you recognized the heavy clump of those platform boots anywhere, and a wide grin spreads across your face as soon as you lay eyes on the tall, lanky, yet dark form of Brian, more formerly known as Marilyn Manson. He glides in smoothly, with an embellished swagger and offers Trent, to your shock as well as your amusement, a full, heated kiss right on the lips. His eyes flutter your way and that unmistakable grin crosses his painted face. Brian approaches you slowly and takes your hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to your palm and turning to Trent to remark on how beautiful you are.

You shiver at his touch, and it almost seems like a dream as the two of them lead you upstairs to the bedroom you and Trent share.

They both want you tonight, Trent explains, and both had decided that they wanted you together. You practically feel yourself grow instantly wetter at the thought of these two icons taking you all night. You feel them first, Brian pressing in from behind, playing with the zipper of your dress and Trent closing in on you to cup your face in his hands and pulling you in for a full, steamy kiss. Brian busies himself with pulling down your zipper and covering your back and neck with warm, sultry kisses.

He wants to take your ass; he likes it that way. Trent asks if you are okay with this and you nod wordlessly, far too distracted with the heavenly feeling of Brian mouthing at your skin to even care how the two of them decide to fuck you.

Trent slides the dress down and places his hands on your breasts, kneading and caressing your flesh. Brian’s hands roam down your body to slip into your panties, exploring you from the inside. You feel your face and body heat up as if from flames; the sensory overload urges a moan from your lips, and Trent grins as he kisses his way down your body, pausing to remove your underwear with his teeth.

You have never had two men approach you completely naked with intentions of fucking you together, and yet here you are, on the bed, waiting for them eagerly.

Brian, with the lube in hand, promises to be gentle and gets into position behind you. Trent watches has he works you from the inside and slowly strokes his cock, groaning when you groan at the harsh and unfamiliar feeling of Brian entering your ass. He pulls you onto his lap and moves you up and down on top of his dick steadily. Trent inches closer and kisses you as he slides into your cunt easily, commenting on how wet and tight you are down there.

It’s a wonderfully obscene display of writhing bodies, rocking and holding each other amidst the moans and cries of pleasure.

Trent comes inside you first and reaches over to kiss Brian in his high while he continues to wildly buck into you. Then Trent makes his way down towards the throbbing area between your legs, instantly shoving his face in deep so you can feel every part of his tongue pleasuring you.

You had felt so full before, and now you are on the urge of coming yourself with Brian’s cock up your ass and Trent’s entire mouth on your pussy.

With a grunt and a hand around your throat, Brian releases inside of you, bucking his hips once before pulling out and helps Trent pin you down on your back while the latter continues to eat you out ravenously, mercilessly. In minutes you are screaming in ecstasy and coming in Trent’s mouth, pulling his hair in large fistfuls while Brian strokes your hair and bends over to lave his tongue along your neck and down toward your tits.

Trent pulls back with a gasp and grin, leaving a sweet, short kiss at your inner thigh and resting his cheek against it, staring up at you lovingly.

Both you and Brian agree that they can do this again, and Trent’s grin widens.


	23. BDSM (light)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trent will indulge in your secrets.

When Trent learns any of your secrets, he always indulges in them. For your benefit of course. And if you enjoy getting smacked around and tied up, then what better way to do that than some bdsm scenario? He decides to come up with something to let you live this fantasy. And if you hate it in the end? Trent will respect that.

You have the best boyfriend in the world, you think as the flogger comes back down on your ass and thighs, the sting remaining deliciously after each blow. You feel the leather of his gloves on his hands, rubbing the skin of your thighs, calves, and ass-cheeks. It is a pleasing sensation, and you purr at his touch, longing for more of his gentle caress and knowing full well it won’t be gentle for long.

You’re his kitten, his precious little toy tonight, and Trent lets you know with plenty more hits from the flogger, ushering pretty squeaks and squeals out of you.

You’re tied to the bed on your stomach, all limbs splayed and each one tied tight to a rung of the headboard and footboard. Trent is dressed to impress tonight- impress you for that matter. Aside from the fisting gloves, he’s wearing his signature short shorts with thigh-high boots and metal garters along with a sleek leather jacket. Dressed to impress? Dressed to kill, and you shiver and moan some more. With each hit of the flogger, Trent caresses the spot tenderly and then continues so that you can’t get used to the stinging pain.

The bed shifts as he climbs on top of you, straddling your ass and you whimper at the cool feel of the leather of his clothes. One finger traces along the outside of your cunt, and when you moan in response, the flogger comes down on your flesh. But he continues to touch you down there, rubbing your cunt in slow, teasing circles, and you can’t help but make even more noises while he breathes out soft degrading insults. You’re his little slut. Go on and moan some more.

You proceed to do so when that finger slides inside and earn at least ten more quick blows. That finger curls and stretches inside you, massaging your wet walls, and your eyes nearly cross when Trent adds a second finger inside and a thumb across your clit. All you can do is drool against the sheets while he touches you. The only sound you make is the sound of your shallow breaths so that he doesn’t whip you again.

Trent decides you’ve been silent for too long, and he asks if you think you deserve to come. You nod wildly; the ache in your pussy makes you whimper desperately. Trent hums at your reaction, running a hand down your quivering spine.

Maybe if you suck his dick real good, he’ll let you come.


	24. Blowjob (Male Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You love humiliating your little slut.

You’ve always been in control. He just likes it that way, and there’s nothing else you’d rather do than please him, keep him happy. And if he’s sucking your dick while you degrade him, then by all means.

You’re in a chair while Trent is on the floor, breathing shallow breaths due to the tightness in his jeans. Damn, that feels good mentally. He looks so desperate; those large green eyes stare up at you, almost begging, and you snap your fingers carelessly. Like a helpless, loyal puppy, Trent crawls closer to you until he is at your feet, blinking up at you in a state of doe-eyed innocence, though you both know just how “innocent” your little slut really is.

One short cry erupts from his full lips as your hand snakes out to grasp a good handful of his hair, hauling him up so you can look him directly in the eyes. Trent is going to suck your dick and suck it good. The little fucker has always prided himself on thinking he’d be good at giving head, so now here’s his chance, you smile, raising an eyebrow. You let go of him in disinterest, a little too abruptly, and he falls over, whimpering and getting to his knees while he anticipates your order.

Good boy.

You open your legs with a smirk, the sound of leather squeaking and rustling against your seat, and instantly, like a dog waiting for his treat, Trent pounces toward you, scrabbling for the zipper of your pants almost hungrily; you’re amazed at his eagerness. He practically claws at your crotch, hot breath against it, hands running over your underwear. Trent pulls out your already hard dick, and for a moment, you think you see him drooling over it. Pavlov certainly knew what he was talking about.

You smirk and roll your hips in his face, only freezing when you feel his warm, perfect tongue lave up the underside of your shaft from the bass of your balls. Heavenly. You groan and grip the top of his head as his lips stretch suddenly around you, sliding slowly down until you swear you feel the tip hit the back of his throat and you almost lose it then and there, but Trent is determined to enjoy this as much as you are.

He hums around you and blinks up at you, batting those thick lashes and flashing those green eyes in your direction. You look smug as you watch them water and feel him gag around you. Trent pulls back up for air, but he didn’t ask for permission.

Bad boy.

You shove him back down before he can protest and roll your eyes. Tsk, tsk. You have every intention of coming down his throat before you decide when he can breathe again.

Fortunate for Trent, he is skillful with that goddamn tongue of his, and you nearly break character to apologize for the bit of cum running down his chin and smeared along his cheek. Trent accepts your apology by flicking out his tongue to lick it away, and half of you wants to fuck him raw for being so fucking lewd. He leans his head against your inner thigh and smiles that innocent smile again.

Maybe you will.


	25. Big Man with a Gun (Nine Inch Nails)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trent sings that he's going to come all over you.

Trent’s fingers dig into your scalp while he holds you down, your wet quivering lips wrapped around his shaft, nose in his pubes, hands tied tightly behind your back. Everything about this seems so degrading, but your heart skips with enjoyment. You love how he handles you this way, rough, easy. You’re so goddamn easy for him.

_I am a big man, yes I am… got a big gun…_

He’s fucking singing down at you, mumbling his words, giving breathy sighs. His voice is husky, coated in honey, exuding a sexual dominance you can’t refuse. You hum against him, but you’re losing air if he keeps you down like this, occasionally fucking into your mouth and enjoying the way you choke on his thick length. Yes, he’s got a big ol’ dick.

You pull back abruptly, heaving violently, gasping for breath, and maybe he gives you a few seconds to recover while he continues singing and laughing softly before he shoves you back down. In this case, you know he likes to hear you struggle, so you forget your gag reflex, emitting those noises he loves.

 _I can reduce you if I want…_ He stops to moan when you hit a spot that makes his stomach contract in pleasure. Trent grins and chuckles when your lips and throat tighten around him. He feels himself getting close, and somehow you feel it too as his voice takes on that of a desperate whine. He pulls out of your mouth and with his grip on your hair, he sneers in your face.

_I’ve got the power._

You’re so wet for him now.

He stands up, on the edge now, hovering over you and jacking himself off. Ribbons of his cum spray on your face, and he doesn’t sing it. He says it, groaning and growling.

I’m going to come all over you.

Your eyelids flutter as his seed hits your face. It’s fucking glorious, and just to tease him, you flick your tongue out to lick at some that had dribbled down your chin. Trent reels at that; you’re so docile and submissive for him that he thinks he could come all over you a second time, mark his territory.

You wouldn’t mind it. In fact, you would probably enjoy it more if he brought in a gun next time.


	26. Trent Takes Care of You When You're Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's a good doctor.

Hot flashes and pounding headaches wake you up, and you stay in bed, burrowing deeper under the covers in hopes that the pain in your stomach will go away. Maybe it’s the weather. It’s pouring outside, and normally you enjoy a day like this with hot tea and cuddles with you know who, but you’re currently distracted in the worst possible way.

Trent notices you didn’t get out of bed this morning, and so he climbs upstairs, reaching you huddled, curled under the sheets like a cat, hoping you’re not sick. He asks you what’s wrong, and you whimper in response. You feel his warm hand rest on your head, and you peak out from under the covers, wanting him to touch you more but worrying that he may catch what you have. Trent places his hand on your forehead, looking concerned and remarks on how warm you feel. You whimper again, and Trent decides to play the dutiful doctor, checking your temperature, fussing over you, rubbing your tummy tenderly. You wish it would ease the ache; it almost does.

The day seems to go better with him looking after you, doing everything that would seem unsavory. When you have to get sick, Trent keeps your hair pulled back so that the mess won’t get in it. He rubs your back, offering encouragements and support when you cry afterwards. He cleans up the bathroom every time when you go back to bed, and when you can’t sleep because of the constant ache, he tries to distract you with movies and the new tracks he’s in the process of writing. He keeps you hydrated with water and feeds you soup, slightly burnt because the man can’t cook for shit, but it’s perfect. He’s perfect. You feel so blessed to have the perfect boyfriend, who knows exactly how to take care of you.

By the end of the day when you think you have enough energy to move, Trent draws a warm bath for you to keep you relaxed. While you wash, he takes the time to remove the sheets and remake the bed so that you can sleep in something cleaner.

When you finally fall asleep, you think you feel him press his lips against your forehead in a sweet, goodnight kiss. The rest of the night passes by with sweet dreams, leaving you rested and better by morning.

A few days later Trent catches your sickness, and you realize it’s your turn to play doctor.


	27. Vocal Trent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trent can be Sasha Grey if he wants to be.

Trent is vocal in two specific ways when he wants to fuck you (or get fucked by you).

If he is taking you, his breathing becomes staggered in his arousal. He can be so quiet when he wants to fuck into you so hard. Trent’s breathing grows heavier and heavier with each passing thrust he gives you, and when you’re already moaning (rather loudly) for more, his husky grunts and groans can only slightly be heard beneath your constant noises. He loves that you’re so loud; it makes him want to try to see how long he can keep you quiet in a different, more dominant type of situation. But your screams for him to fuck you until you can hardly walk are nothing compared to his breathy “yes’s” and “fuck yes’s” and “god, so tight”. When he’s vocal in this way, he praises you. Trent lets you know that you are the best fuck he’s ever had by his soft moans, deep growls, and endless forms of encouragement and sweet nothings in your ear until he finally comes inside you.

If you are the one taking him, Trent gets loud in the form of two ways. It really depends on who’s dominating tonight. If Trent decides to be a submissive bottom where you are the one doing the topping and dominating, he begins to whine. His whimpers are soft at first if you are fucking him sweetly, slowly. Gain power and momentum with each thrust inside of him and his whimpers become long, loud moans. Reach that spot inside him, and his voice changes from its normal low tone to high-pitched whines, rhythmic cries with each thrust, eventual screams, wordless, but they beg you to keep going. If you’re skillful enough, maybe you can even get his voice to raise to an even higher pitch until you can get it to crack. And god, that’s cute.

Trent dominating you means he wants to get on top. And not in that way. He takes on a whole new meaning to the name Sasha Grey when he decides he wants to be the bratty bottom tonight. You haven’t really heard loud until you’ve heard Trent shriek for you to fuck him raw, fuck him until he can’t take it, fuck him until he’s bleeding. (He’s such a dirty little masochist.) If submissive Trent isn’t one for talking dirty while you fuck, then brat Trent certainly is. He’ll beg you to fuck him deep, tell you how he can feel every inch, maybe even hint that he’ll allow you to fist him tonight, make him come again. He’ll scream that he’s going to come, to come all over you, yes, and he promises to clean it up. He promises. Because he’s such a good slut; he’s your slut, and he will do anything you say.


	28. Praise Kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let him know how amazing he is.

You praise Trent by whispering sweet nothings in his ear while desperately scratching your nails down his back, between his shoulder blades as he fucks into you. He’s so big and full inside of you. He fills you up so good; you love the way he feels inside, perfect. Like he could reach your womb and leave you filled with his come. You urge him to go on and mark what is his, and spurred on by your praises, he releases deep into you, gripping your hair with one hand and your hip with the other. That’ll leave a bruise.

With Trent’s tongue fucking you and sucking on your clit, you praise him with only the sounds you make and an extra tug to his hair. His groans and hums against you tells you he appreciates it; how he loves to hear you whine for him. It makes him hard just thinking about how you’ll come in his mouth just by his skillful tongue alone.

You praise Trent for being so good. For holding back. For not coming like an obedient little slut. He purrs at that, wiggling and twitching for any sort of friction when all you do is stroke his hard cock with the tip of your finger. He’s been so good, could he please, please, please come? Even better, his desperation makes you wet, and when you finally allow him to come, you murmur soft encouragements in his ear, milking him through it, pleased with his whimpers and the way he bucks his hips as he releases, hard. Such a good slut for you. A needy little cumslut.

Trent praises you when you’re on your knees. Docile. Needy. He loves the way your mouth stretches when you take all of him in. He thinks you’re beautiful like that. All his. What a good girl for pleasing him so well. You can take him deeper. Perfect. He strokes your hair while you suck him off like a good whore. Trent’s precious whore.

Trent praises you when you finally manage to sink down on his hard, pulsing cock. His hands reach up to caress your body, encouraging you to rock your hips for him, that’s it. He calls you beautiful with the way you tremble and tighten around him, flipping your hair out of your eyes. God, you’re fucking gorgeous like this. Good girl. He can’t wait to feel you come all over him.


	29. Princess vs. Baby Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fight. Fuck.

Trent calls you ‘princess’ to piss you off, and it works. It’s a sarcastic little murmur under his breath when you both know you’re overreacting. So Trent decides to stir the pot, daring you to get angry. Okay, princess. Whatever you say, princess. You both know you can’t stay angry for long (most of the time, the two of you make up with some angry sex later on). But goddamit, you wish you could smack that cute little smirk off his face. He’d probably think you’re trying to be kinky, though.

By that time the frustration has simmered down, Trent’s already pounding into you, already forgiven you, because you’re still his babygirl. You can’t stay mad at him forever when he calls you that, and he knows it. It somehow breaks the ice to the tension in the room, and not just because his lips are pressed against your neck while he fucks into you. You can’t help but giggle as his breath tickles your ear and he whispers how you’ll always be his babygirl. All his. Your arms wrap around him, and your legs hook at his hips, so he holds you tighter, knowing he’s wound you down and says it again.

I love my babygirl.


	30. Making Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Typical date, sucking face while watching a horror movie.

The two of you decide to sit and watch a movie together. It’s a typical horror movie, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, one of your favorites because Trent decided that tonight was the night, after all the stress and bad news and anxiety that had plagued your entire week, you both deserved one special, relaxing night together and fuck everything else. Nothing else matters tonight except the two of you, finally alone together.

Trent plays with your fingers while you watch one scene, knowing a jump-scare is bound to happen, and you clutch his hand that holds yours, squeaking once as the scene flashes before your eyes and giggling nervously. You hear Trent chuckle, and he raises your palm to his soft lips, pressing a kiss there and patting your hand. Nestling close against his chest, you close your eyes and focus on his steady, even breathing rather than the girl getting chased by cannibals on the television screen. Trent places a kiss to the top of your head, and you smile, humming contentedly.

His lips linger there for a moment, and then you feel two fingers lift your chin to look up at him. Trent leans down to kiss you gently, and your lips move back in perfect sync with his, molding together like they were always meant to. The kiss doesn’t stop there. Trent’s hand finds the side of your face, cups your cheek, draws you closer as the kiss becomes more and more heavy, passionate, dizzying.

You moan against his mouth, and Trent’s tongue requests entrance, willing you to part your lips and let him in. Nothing like making out to the sounds of scream queens and the cutting edge of a running chainsaw. His breath is warm against yours, his groans soft, his movements and gestures insistent as he gently pushes you down against the cushions of the couch. The kisses are more greedy than soft now with lip bites and soft sucking noises that make you shiver while his mouth decides to depart from your lips and trail down to places he hasn’t discovered. His arms wrap possessively around your waist, pinning you down, holding you close whiles his lips caress your jaw and move down to your neck. He leaves hot, sloppy, wet kisses there, each one stalling your breathing just a bit; it grows heavier and heavier, more labored with each soft sound his lips make as he leaves his mark. With one last sweet, open-mouthed kiss against your throat, Trent moves back up, pulls away and hovers over you.

He stares down at you lovingly, but his eyes are insistent.

Perhaps, he wants to take this upstairs?

He does. Very much.


	31. More Daddy Kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do what you're told, and maybe he'll let you come.

Trent’s had enough of your teasing, and it isn’t long before you find yourself up against wall, one large hand holding your arms above your head while an arm presses against your throat, keeping you pinned securely.

You must really love pain, don’t you?

You gulp and stare into those hard, green eyes.

If you really wanted his attention, you could have simply stood in front of him naked. This little display you gave, of bending over, giving your Daddy a good look at your cute ass just proves what a simpering slut you are to him. Aren’t you?

You nod. You can feel the muscles of his arm against your neck.

Nothing but a needy, selfish slut, constantly begging. With a knowing grin, Trent reaches under your skirt abruptly, ushering a soft squeak out of you.

You’re not even wearing any panties.

Fucking whore.

But you’re Daddy’s fucking whore, aren’t you?

You nod again. Good girl.

One finger inside you is all it takes really. All it takes to turn you into a mewling, whimpering mess, melting against him. Trent pushes you back against the wall, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. No, pretty thing. You stay there, and take what Daddy gives you. But that thumb against your throbbing clit feels so fucking good, and self-consciously you buck your hips into his hand. The other hand against your throat holds you completely still this time, making you moan in frustration, desperately rutting against that one finger.

He’s laughing.

You hate him a little. All you wanted was some attention.

Your eyes are pleading. Trent notices and taunts you with that husky, honeyed voice. Sweet. If you could, you would lick every last drop from his tongue, but all you do is beg for more, maybe another finger. Please, Daddy? It amazes him that you continue to be this bold. Apparently, he needs to punish you harder, get his point across because this pleasurable torture he gives you obviously isn’t working.

One sharp slap to your cunt makes you jump with a squeal, and you decide not to beg until he is ready and willing to give you what you need. Trent leers at your sudden compliance and leans in close, breath hot against your ear, that one hand lowering from your neck to squeeze and grope your tits. Your own breath hitches in your throat as that finger inside you curls, searching for what it is exactly that makes you tick.

In a hushed whisper, Trent orders you to get upstairs. He wants to find you in his bed, legs spread, just to make it easier for him to take you. Leave your clothes on. He’d rather take them off himself.

Yes, Daddy.


	32. Riding Trent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for you to get on top.

Sometimes Trent wants you to get on top. He wants to see everything, every expression you make when you take all of him in, every twitch and shudder. He wants to hear you moan on top of him, moan and whimper with every move his cock makes inside of you. With every kiss and caress he gives your body, you writhe and feel Trent move down, wrapping his arms around your waist.

Trent hoists you up so that you both are sitting up, moving in time and against one another. He practically thrusts his length against your clit while his lips attack yours hungrily. You feel your sexes grind together wildly, and with each lunge on your clit, you arch your back, allowing his lips to trail and drag down your throat, along your collarbones, between your breasts. He’s hungry for you. He wants to taste you it seems. Gently he falls back against the pillows taking you with him, assaulting your tits with teeth, tongue, and mouth. His large, warm hands slide up your arms, sending shivers down your spine at his tender, sensual touch, and those hands continue their way down your back while his lips make their way along the soft skin of your ribs and stomach.

Waves of pleasure writhe inside of you, and you sit up, straddling him as the fingers that trail along your inner thighs reach closer and closer to your dripping cunt. You hover over Trent’s fully erect cock, watching his face, filling with ecstasy as you slowly mount him. Trent sucks in a breath as your wet walls engulf his throbbing member, and you purr, taking him inch by inch, feeling him pulse inside of you. You both shudder as you bottom out, and your hands stroke his chest while you steady yourself.

Ride him. He’s begging you. Trent grips your hips and fucks up into you once to tell you to move, and you give a short pleasured cry, obliging him. He feels so big and deep inside of you as you rock against him. You let out a small whine, and Trent’s grip on you tightens at just the sound of it. You look so fucking gorgeous like this, he tells you. The way you flip your hair out of your eyes with nearly every thrust. The way your eyes seem to scream for more of him. The way your nails scratch down his chest. He adores every inch of you.

Trent’s thrusts become more powerful and desperate, eager and almost violent each time you roll your hips. Your movements increase as well and to steady yourself, you balance with your hands against the mattress, fisting the sheets. The both of you are getting closer. Trent’s breathless encouragements grow louder, and your whines and moans become more and more frantic until finally you’re coming all over his cock, screaming in pleasure and writhing uncontrollably in your high. He bucks into you a few more times before he’s releasing his seed deep inside you with an almost strangled growl, and then you fall against him, both of you sighing deeply at the amazing fuck you experienced.

Good girl, he murmurs against your hot flesh. You did so well for him.


	33. More Rough Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wants to fuck you like an animal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is in bullet point form because an anon on tumblr requested I do a couple like these. (Since I'm feeling sick too, this works.)

Rough sex with Trent starts abruptly.

  * He simply wants you; it’s no question of why or how.
  * He shoves you against the wall, the edge of the bed, anywhere he can get his hands on you.
  * Rough kisses follow with teeth and tongue, attacking your lips first, inserting tongue, biting slowly, sensually on your lower lip.
  * Dragging across your jaw, passionate kisses, soft licks, painful neck bites that drag and scrap.
  * He loves hearing you whine, loves seeing you spread out on the bed, vulnerable.
  * Buttons fly when he rips open your blouse.
  * Goosebumps form when he removes your pants, your socks, your panties.
  * His teeth practically pierce your skin.
  * He’s animalistic, hungry whereas you are frantic, pleading.
  * Fists hold your wrists down over your head.
  * Sexes rub together desperately, eyes wild, moans and whines drowning out the heavy, shallow breathing.
  * His cock practically leaks over your clit until he’s plunging in.
  * You fight him for dominance.
  * The fight becomes catlike, your hands breaking from his grip, running over his shoulders.
  * Nails scratching down his back, his grunts of pleasure urging you to climax.
  * You turn the tables, flipping him on his back, riding him vigorously, bringing him closer to release.
  * Both of you screaming, both of you grabbing at one another for leverage.
  * Him sitting up to fuck into you.
  * You biting into his shoulder while you orgasm, while he grabs your ass, urging himself deeper.
  * He releases after you, some of the cum running down your thighs, running down his cock.
  * You feel his teeth dig into your neck, hear his growls of pleasure with one last thrust inside of you.
  * Your whines tell him he’s won this fight.




	34. Your Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't get on his nerves.

You grin. It’s so easy to get Trent riled up. Even if he’s just shifting on his own two feet anxiously with a stony expression, you know you get to him sometimes. This time he gives you a warning. Keep it up. Go ahead. See what happens (because really he’d love to shove his cock in that big mouth of yours when you act this way).

Oh dear. Did you bruise his ego? You bat your lashes at him in that playful way, and Trent only offers you a stern look through piercing eyes that wordlessly demands you hold your tongue. You know you should. But your mind wanders to how he could punish you if you continued to tease him. So you continue to tease him.

And that’s that.

Trent shoots you a dangerous glare because quite frankly, you’re on thin fucking ice. You can hear the deep growl in his normally nasally, husky voice. All honey is gone and only straight vinegar remains. You can’t help but shiver and wonder what he’s planning to do to you later. Something you’ll feel for days probably. Your ass self-consciously stings at the thought of his hands coming down on your tender flesh. Hard.

The rest of the evening goes by strangely smoothly, and for a brief time you forget about the shenanigans you pulled today. You think Trent has too.

The rest of the band had taken the bus home, and it’s just the two of you, sitting at a booth at a small diner, a little tipsy but not enough to be completely inebriated. It’s quite pleasant really. The two of you talk while you play with his hair and he smiles in that goofy way of his. Cute. He’s cute. Even when he gets mad at you. Trent sits cross legged in the booth with you because it’s the most comfortable for him, and he leans in so that his head is basically resting against the dip in your shoulder. The both of you remain that way until your food arrives. By that time, Trent is sitting up and rests his hand on your thigh.

It seems sweet at first.

Then he reaches higher, thanking the waitress for the food and watching her leave while he maintains an altogether stoic expression on his face. His thumb caresses your leg, and you stare at him carefully, knowing full well that he hasn’t forgotten. No way in hell.

Those fingers dance up your thigh and past your waistband, reaching the button and zipper and knowing just what to do with them from there. When his hand slides past your underwear, a soft uninhibited squeak escapes your open mouth and you stare at him wide-eyed. Why the fuck would he do this right here, right now, in front of everyone?

This is your punishment, he murmurs simply, rubbing his fingers over your clit and reaching deeper past your slit. You bite your tongue when he enters you smoothly and nearly squeal when that finger crooks and curls inside you. Trent remains expressionless through it all, taking sips of his water and poking through his French fries. He offers you a few. Not hungry? Oh well. He shrugs, and that finger plunges in deeper. You choke on a scream, managing to bite it back, and satisfied, Trent removes his hand and wipes it on your napkin.

Jerk.


	35. Trent Talking Dirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More like disgusting dirty. :)

Hold. Still.

Much better. You know I didn’t think you’d actually go through with this. You must be that much of a desperate slut to really want this. Do you?

I thought so. Look at you. All tied and spread out for my liking; the only position for a whore like you. And you’ve been such a dirty, needy whore.

You’ve got this freaky slave fantasy, you know that? I didn’t think you’d actually confide in me, but you did and well, here we are. You’re going to let me do whatever I want to you, is that it? The very definition of a slave.

Dirty girl. Yes, that’s right. Of course you will.

God, I can’t help but recall all the things you were begging me to do to you when the time came. I’m appalled. You’re so fucking disgusting. Oh no, kitten, I’m not disgusted. I’m just stating the facts. In fact, I’m going to tell you everything I’m going to do to you. Every detail. I won’t leave anything out, just for you. I know you get off on this.

That pussy is mine, and I can’t wait to play with it. Can you just imagine the sensation? My lips brushing over you down there? My tongue gently flicking over your cute little clit while I watch your stomach retract at each touch I give you. You’re already going to be so fucking wet when I get there, sucking and licking your fat, throbbing cunt. Maybe if I’m really lucky, I’ll get to see you squirt.

Aw, is she shy? Don’t worry, kitten. I’ll let you squirt all over my face when you finally come. I’m just going to need you to clean me up afterwards.

You think I’m done? Ah, ah, ah, baby doll, I haven’t even gotten started yet.

You’re going to be a shivering, trembling mess by the time I’m done with you. You did say you wanted me to piss on you. It would be my pleasure using you as my personal toilet. How thoughtful really. I can’t wait to see you open that sweet mouth and stick out that tongue. Maybe I’d just let go right down your throat, watch you choke on my piss a little. Won’t that be fun.

Afterwards I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to make you take my thick cock, every inch because I’m feeling generous today. I wonder how far I’d reach inside you sometimes. Up your womb? Maybe I’ll get so far up your tummy, making a cute, little bulge there. But who knows? You’re always so fucking tight and wet around me, it’s hard to think straight, and I don’t know. I just let go. Deep inside you. I’ll be so full taking you, I bet some of it will leak out of your raw, red pussy.

I’ll lick it clean for you, angel. Don’t worry. I’ll clean up my piss on your tits as well. Because I know that’s what you like, isn’t it? You want every time I fuck you to be raw and rough and filthy. I can be filthy for you, kitten. Just for you.


	36. Shower Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He just wants you to relax and what better way to do that than in his arms.

The water falls, and you get in, the shower stall building with steam at its heat. It feels good. You’ve had a stressful day. Job. Friends. “Friends”. School. Anything. Now you get to relax. Pamper yourself. The water feels good on your skin. Soothing. It makes your flesh blush with pink, but whatever. Use it up. It’s your time.

You run your hands through your now soaked hair, sighing deeply at the feeling of each hot drop of water hitting your skin.

Hands meet yours and pull your hair back over one shoulder while a pair of lips presses eagerly into the dip between your shoulder and neck. You already know who it is. You hardly heard Trent come in, but he’s there, pressing his naked body against yours, his cock prodding your thigh. His perfect lips continue to mouth and suck on the tender flesh of your neck, and you cran it, your gesture alone begging for more. Those hands that are on your shoulders slide down your arms, squeezing your elbows, caressing your wrists, entwining his fingers with yours until they encircle around your waist and travel up to grope and caress your tits.

You moan at that, and he hears you, a smirk forming on his lips as he mutters breathy encouragements into your ear. _Moan for me, kitten. I want to hear you purr._

One hand turns your head to the side so you can finally face him, and you both kiss, passionately, desperately, locked together while his free hand trails down to that area between your legs, rubbing and stroking sensually. You squeak against his mouth and feel the vibrations on your lips as he chuckles against you. Trent knows exactly how to make you melt.

It’s scorching in that already steamy shower now. The heat of the water molds to the heat radiating off the both of you, and you break the kiss to lean your head back against his shoulder, lips parted in a frantic whine.

Trent watches your face with hungry eyes while his fingers continue to pleasure you. Your breath begins to hitch, and your voice breaks as you feel yourself getting close. Trent aggressively rubs your clit now, staring in awe at how your chest heaves and shudders with each eager breath to come, to release all over his hand. He wants to see it; he wants to see the expression of ecstasy on your face when you do.

In your beginning climax, you reach out a hand to steady yourself, but Trent catches it in his and brings it to his lips, kissing each knuckle while he brings your body to convulse and twitch and writhe as you come. He captures your lips with his when you finally do, muffling each cry and moan of pleasure. His tongue pushes into your mouth while his fingers busy themselves by shoving deeper into your wet cunt, ushering a quick squeal out of you.

You pant and gasp in your high, practically falling against Trent’s chest; your knees are mush, and your heart is pounding. Trent chuckles again and kisses your cheek, wordlessly telling you he was happy to do it, it’s his _pleasure_ to do it.


	37. Breeding Kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You want to carry Trent's child. Admit it.

You can feel every inch of him inside you. The veins of Trent’s cock rub against your wet walls with every thrust and movement, giving you just the right amount of friction you need to keep you moaning and mewling beneath his heat.

Trent fills you perfectly, so big and thick and hot inside of you, pulsing and throbbing with need. Any deeper, and you wonder if he could reach your womb. The thought alone sends you shivering against him, and you bite your lip, moaning some more. He comments on how tight you are through his countless, raspy breaths and shoves himself even deeper, up to the hilt, which extracts a small scream from you. Trent loves hearing you scream for him.

Are you imagining his hot seed filling you up? Trent smirks at the pleasured expression on your face and already knows the answer. You want more, and he acknowledges it, remarking on how much of a cumslut you are for him. Maybe next time he won’t use a condom, so you can really feel every drop of his cum reach your womb. And you love it. He knows that for certain. Trent knows without a doubt that would send you over the edge quicker than anything, have you coming all over his thick cock without hesitation.

You moan and press your lips together, eyebrows furrowed as you try to concentrate on the waves of pleasure that wrack your body. Trent’s thrusts combine with it, and with a dominant grunt, he lifts your legs and hooks them at his hips, pounding into you on his knees. This is quite the position, you think, feeling yourself arch your back off the mattress as he hits that spot _right there._ He has your lower half nearly raised off the bed, and for leverage, you cling to the edge of the bed, enjoying the harsh feeling of his fingers pressing into your hips. You know for certain they will leave visible bruises into your flesh.

Maybe Trent will “accidentally” get you pregnant. He looks down at you and looks smug, knowing that the very thought of you carrying his child turns you on immensely. Even if your tummy is already filled with his kid, Trent would fuck you again and again, maybe trying for twins. You squeal at that. You’d be too full for his seed; some of it would be bound to drip out of your raw, aching pussy.

Even if it doesn’t work, he’d still try again and again and again until his cum is leaking out of you. The only reason he is fucking you like this is so that it will work. To breed you. To fuck his kid in you.

Your eyes widen instantly upon seeing the stomach distention of his cock pressing deep into you. He’s that big, that thick inside of you, and noticing it himself, Trent wonders aloud that he’d like to see you just like this, your tummy swollen with his cum or his child.

You lose it immediately, coming hard with a cry and many long, high-pitched moans. Trent feels you tighten around him and orgasms himself, thrusting deep one last time into you before he releases. Trent collapses, exhausted against you, his slowly softening member still inside of you. You love the intimate feeling and find yourself pressing closer to him.


	38. Breath Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You want Trent to play with you even if it is a little dangerous.

Trent choking you out happens in three different ways.

He’ll use his hands, sometimes one, sometimes both. With one hand he balances himself on top of you with his free hand, focusing on his power with each thrust. He fucks you wildly, tightening his hand around your throat and feeling himself getting harder each time he hears your soft, desperate breaths for air. If you so much as squeak, he only presses down on your throat more until he comes first. With both hands, he nearly strangles you into the bed while pounding into you violently, the sound of skin slapping crudely against skin the only thing you can hear aside from his rasping gasps and soft encouragements. You’re coming before him at the near asphyxiation, your strangled pleas for more sending him over the edge and releasing you before you pass out in his arms.

He’ll fuck you on your hands and knees, grabbing your hair in large, twisting fistfuls. With that hand in your tangled hair, he pushes you down into the pillow suddenly, thrusting in and out, in and out, constantly. It’s all you can feel as the effects of the loss of air reach you, burning your lungs, plugging your nose, blocking your windpipe. You don’t know how long he’ll be but you hope you get to come before then.

You expect him to do this, but you don’t know when exactly. Only the harsh sensation of coarse rope wrapping around your throat takes you by surprise. The last coherent thought that reaches your mind is how much you love Trent’s dominant side before you’re gasping for air desperately, clinging to the sheets, the pillows, the bed rungs of the headboard, anything to hold on to consciousness. You want to feel everything at this heightened sense of danger and euphoria. You want to feel his seed squirt inside you while the rope tightens and tightens some more. You want to hear that distinct, high-pitched ringing in your ears when he gives the rope a sharp tug. He’ll fill you up so good and choke you out so tight and then release you at just the exact moment when you feel yourself come and come hard.


	39. Blowjob (older Trent)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The burly goth man can be as coy as a kitten when it comes to your mouth.

Trent’s waiting for you on the bed in nothing but his underwear, eyeing you closely as you climb up at the foot of it, ass in the air, nearly naked as well aside from the tiniest pair of black panties that rides up between your cheeks. You hear him groan at that, a low groan, deep, almost a growl but maybe just a little bit needy too. As much as he’d be reluctant to admit, Trent could become a helpless, begging mess in the bedroom despite how dominant he normally portrays himself to be.

You grin widely, climbing up into his lap and straddling his waist while you make sure to grind a little against his growing heat, just so he can get a feel for just how wet you already are for him. Trent sucks in a breath and grips your hips immediately, stilling any movement to his rapidly growing cock. You glance at him only slightly quizzically, and that’s all he needs; you hesitation for him to lock his lips with yours, urging you into a passionate, heated kiss. You smile slyly against his mouth and begin to trail your lips down from the corners of his mouth towards his jaw, sucking crudely at a soft, sweet spot you find that forces him into a moaning, whining mess.

You love that soft patch of hair on his broad chest. You nuzzle your nose against it and continue down until you reach that hardened bulge in his underwear. This makes you smile. He’s wants your mouth so desperately. Gently, you flick your wet tongue out against the pulsing member beneath the strained fabric and hear him hiss in enjoyment. God, he could probably come any second now. With skillful fingers, you pull away the underwear by the waistband and feel him shudder against you when his erect cock pops out and slaps against his stomach. Your mouth automatically waters at the pleasing sight and you waste no time.

Trent practically cries out as you immediately take him in, inch by fucking inch, all the way down until your nose hits his pubes. You stay there, testing how long you can hold until your gag reflex kicks in. Trent helplessly bucks into your mouth when you do nothing, and you manage a grin, pulling away with a wet ‘pop’ for air and then plunging back down as avidly as ever. Bobbing your head as you go, you hear his frantic, endless whines. Seems so strange to hear his low voice grow more and more nasally and whiny as you continue to suck and tease his shaft skillfully with your tongue. Strange indeed, you chuckle when his voice suddenly cracks. He would be embarrassed by now, but he is far too distracted by the muscles of your throat closing around his head and your slick tongue laving and flicking up the underside from the base to even notice.

With a hand gripping strands of your hair at the top of your head, Trent comes instantly down your throat, spilling his hot seed erratically with occasional bucks and twitches and whimpers. You love the sounds he makes when he’s been pleasured. You can’t get enough of him. As you pull away from his softening cock, you lick a stray trickle of his cum from the corner of your mouth and smile up at him.

He’s wrecked.


	40. Foot Fetish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think he'd be this obsessed with your cute feet.

Your feet are aching and before you are even settled in your seat, ready to prop your feet up, Trent eagerly asks you if you would like a foot rub.

In fact, he’s a little too eager.

You consent, watching him closely, though as he kneels by the chair, taking one foot into his large, warm hands. His fingers work your flesh skillfully, and gentle shivers run up and down your spine at his soft touch. It’s more of a caress, so loving. You watch him carefully, remarking silently on his facial expression as he rubs and strokes your skin. As his thumbs tenderly rub in circles along your foot, the corners of Trent’s mouth twitch into the beginnings of a smile.

His face is close to your feet now as he moves on to the next one. Too close. His lips are wet, breaths warm; you wiggle your toes at the feel of it. It almost feels nice really. But Trent’s mouth is so close, almost as if he could place those lips on your feet, almost as if he wanted to kiss them.

You grin a little. To tease him, you shove your foot in his face, and he jumps back in surprise. That surprise becomes a bit playful, and he grabs that foot, pressing his lips against the sole tenderly but nearly insistently.

You remark that you never thought he would have such an obsession like this over your feet. He’s worried now. Trent asks if it bothers you while softly stroking the other one.

Maybe it’s a little weird.

You find it cute, though. More than cute. You squeal when you feel that perfect tongue flick out against your sole, and then he does the same to the other one, playing with your toes absentmindedly. You wiggle them again and swear you can hear him groan inwardly. Go ahead, is what you silently offer, and Trent hesitates only slightly before enveloping a toe in his mouth, gently sucking and then doing the same to the others.

More shivers run up and down your spine, and this time it is your turn to moan. You don’t mean for it to feel that good but it does. You close your eyes, letting him mouth at your feet. Don’t they stink? Trent shakes his head, and to prove it, he shoves his nose in between your toes, breathing in deeply. There’s something like a smile on his face. Trent is in utter bliss just pressing his lips against your feet. Nothing is making him happier at the moment.

You smile. Go on and suck on them a little more. Trent’s eyes glitter at your words, and another groan erupts from his lips. You ask if he’s hard, and the question catches him off guard. He swallows so hard, you can definitely see it.

Well, perhaps you can do something about that.


	41. Blanket Fort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the little things...

Imagine this sweet memory with Trent:

  * Coming home exhausted from a tiring day at work.
  * Trent, smiling, having a surprise for you to help you relax.
  * Holding his hands over your eyes as he guides you to the living room.
  * Releasing you with a shy, little “surprise!” and kissing your cheek.
  * A makeshift canopy of sheets hung over the comfy chairs, hovering over a soft bed of blankets and plush pillows meeting your eyes.
  * The entire room being dark and cozy, so he hands you a flashlight and a steaming mug of cocoa.
  * You settling underneath the fort, marveling at his craftsmanship.
  * Wondering how you ever managed to score with an amazing guy like him.
  * Trent cuddling in close beside you as you lay on your backs.
  * The flashlights flitting the light over the constellations etched into the sheets overhead, making shadows dance across your faces.
  * The both of you clinking mugs, and Trent kissing your nose as you finish your cocoa.
  * Spending the rest of the hour holding each other close and giving quick, sweet kisses.
  * Trent’s soft, perfect lips moving down to peck short kisses along your neck, lingering there for a bit, the kisses growing more and more loving and passionate.
  * The both of you ending up falling asleep in each other’s arms.




	42. His Only Critic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The only opinion he cares about is yours.

Trent lets the track go for the full six minutes and then some until it finally ends and then glances at you. You know he was watching you the entire time you listened to it. One thing is for certain: the song will be a hit. You don’t know how or if the critics will ever make it past the notorious phrase “fuck you like an animal” constantly repeated throughout the song, but millions of ears will listen and enjoy, regardless of the obscenities pouring from his lips.

He’s waiting for your response, and you can tell the poor baby is nervous as hell. Of course, many people will take the track the wrong way or possible ban it from stores and radio stations, but that is beside the point for Trent. He hardly gives a shit at the moment. All he cares about right now is your opinion on what he thinks could be the highlight of his career as a musician.

So the song is not about sex.

No.

There’s an amused gleam in Trent’s green eyes as he observes the profile of your face, but still he waits. He wants to hear more.

You remark that you didn’t think he felt this way. All that self-loathing amidst the drugs and the roadies and the critics and the screaming fans. The helplessness of not knowing what to do with himself. You share your thoughts and watch his eyes soften. He’s pleased you get it. He didn’t think anyone would.

Trent shifts in his seat restlessly as he comments ruefully on how the most it will ever be played would be at strip clubs.

Perhaps, you think aloud. But you know what it is about. You know how special and permanent the words are to him. And perhaps more and more people will realize its worth beyond the sex as soon as it reaches their ears.

You think so?

You look at Trent. The man looks so hopeful yet still a little anxious. Naturally. You nod and give him a kiss for reassurance and comfort.

You love it. It’s so artistic and emotional and sexy at the same time.

Trent chuckles and pulls you against him.

Just don’t ask him to play it while the two of you fuck.


	43. Losing It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's your first.

This is your first time, but you want it to be with him. You can’t think of anyone you’d want to do it with more. You love Trent. You want him to be your first. You want him to be your last. You want him to be the only one.

He asks you if you’re ready, if you really want to do this, knowing that you are a virgin. You nod, and he kisses your cheek to start with. Trent promises to be gentle since this is your first time. He’ll be so gentle and tender towards you because the last thing he wants is for you to be in too much pain. You know it will hurt. It’s inevitable. But it won’t hurt for long, Trent assures you. He will make you feel so good, make this moment the most pleasurable for you.

That’s the thing with virgins, he whispers in your ear, making you shiver. They get so wet the first time. He’ll make the pleasure last.

Trent’s lips are on your jaw, pressing there tenderly, moving slowly down the side of your neck. It feels foreign, but insanely good, and you tremble some beneath the soft feeling of his mouth on your skin. Trent notices how his ministrations make you feel, how they make you quiver and sigh with every touch. His lips meet yours now. Finally. You smile against them, molding with him, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth, exploring the inside, curling against yours. This sends you gasping, and Trent pulls away to make sure you’re still enjoying it. You kiss him again to reassure him, your hands running through his dreads, lightly pulling.

Was that a growl?

Your stomach flips in anticipation, and then he’s slowly pushing you down against the bed, on your back, open and vulnerable for him to do whatever he wants with you.

Trent lifts his head, his expression alone asking you for permission, and you nod wordlessly, goosebumps fanning out over your skin as he unbuttons your blouse with nimble, skillful fingers. A light shade of pink spreads out over every inch of your soft flesh. He’s never seen you in just your underwear before, and half of you wants to cover yourself instantly.

The other half trusts him entirely though. The blush reaches your face when you watch him bend down to leave a sweet kiss between your breasts. His hands work at your jeans next, and eventually everything is nearly off, gone, and you’re left in only your bra and underwear, shivering slightly against the sheets, feeling his eyes flit over every inch of your body. You feel like you should probably do something to assist him, and you think to yourself that you never felt this daring.

Sitting up at the edge of the bed, you tug at the hem of his shirt, and Trent raises his arms, aiding you in lifting it over his head. You don’t know how you got his pants off that fast, but here you are, on your back once more with Trent in between your thighs, caressing your waist, lips pressed against your throat hungrily. That’s when you really start to make some noise.

Trent tells you he loves the sweet sounds of your moans by squeezing your thigh gently as his mouth makes its way down your body. You feel his warm breath over you and shudder, knowing what he wants. One kiss against your heat, and you’re a sobbing, moaning mess. Trent only chuckles at your expense, and before you know it, you’re completely naked beneath him.

Trent’s eyes rake over your body, and you swear you hear that growl again before you feel that tongue lave up your throbbing cunt in one lewd gesture. A squeak escapes your lips before you can stop yourself, and glancing down, you stare at the man lying on his stomach in between you, mouthing at your pussy. He stares back with heavy, lidded eyes and then pulls away to rub two fingers down you. You attempt to spread your legs even wider until one finger slides into you slowly yet surely. The feeling is strange to you, not painful at all. Just strange and extremely unfamiliar.

The second one is harder, and you can’t help but let out a soft whimper at the slight burn. Trent kisses your thigh sweetly upon hearing it and applies his thumb to your clit, pleasuring you gently while those two fingers work you from the inside. It starts to feel amazing, and your breaths grow heavier and heavier through each wave of pleasure he gives you with his touch. You worry you’ll come too soon before he’s ready.

Trent smiles at your enjoyment, and he pulls his fingers out, lining his cock up, condom and all (because safe sex is important) to your entrance.

He’s huge.

It’s nerve-wracking, worrying if he’ll even fit, but Trent places a soft kiss against your lips and gently pushes in, only an inch. He stops when he hears your gasps of pain, waiting for your nod to continue.

It hurts. A lot. And you wonder if you can withstand it before you want him to stop. You don’t want him to stop, though because it’s Trent. You trust him so much, love him unconditionally, and when he stops completely to ask if you’re going to be all right, you almost beam. You beg him to move, please, and Trent captures your mouth with his hungrily as he thrusts inside of you, gently but steadily.

You’re not as used to him as you’d like to be, but you moan for him to go faster. Trent complies, his heavy breaths against your neck mixing in with your whimpers. The both of you rock together in an entanglement of writhing bodies, your legs wrapping around his waist and hands tangling in his dreads, his strong arms holding you close and his lips caressing your skin.

When he comes inside, it draws you closer and you whine at his fingers rubbing you to release as well. They slow in your high, drawing out the rest of your orgasm while Trent watches your face, in awe of you.

He falls against you, pulling out gently and wrapping you up in his warmth, you breathless and fulfilled. Trent murmurs sweet nothings in your ear. How you make him so happy. How much he loves you.

You whisper it back, pressing your face against his chest, inhaling his scent and smiling softly to yourself. He’s everything and more.


	44. Sexting (Daddy Kink)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe he won't spank you too hard tonight.

Daddy <3

When are you coming home daddy?

Hey kitten. Soon I promise

I have a small issue

What’s wrong angel?

I’m really

Wet

_Read at 11:15 PM_

Daddy?

May I touch myself please???

No.

Please daddy I’ve been such a good girl all day

while you’ve been gone please? It’s such torture

                                                                                                                                                  when you’re not here

That’s why I like it

Because I know you’re just squirming for me

Begging me to let you come

Bet your panties are soaked right now

They are daddy. So wet

Good.

Strip down for me right now.

Yes daddy

I did what you asked

Good girl

Since you were obedient I won’t cane you for

too long when I get home

But if you ask me to get off one more time

before I get there, I promise you the punishment

will be more severe

_Read at 11:25 PM_

Do you understand me slut

Yes.

Yes what

Yes daddy

Good fucking whore

You better be naked and on the bed when I get home

Mmm yes daddy

Fuck I can’t wait to fuck you until you can hardly

stand


	45. Striptease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can leave your hat on.

It’s nice this way. The rough voice of Joe Cocker in the background with that smooth brass in your ears, Trent sitting down on the bed, leaning back against his elbows with a pretty little smirk on his perfect face. You look smug. He can’t take his eyes off you. You got him right where he belongs. Beneath you.

You’re removing your jeans now, moving with a sensual smoothness to the music playing, unzipping the front, pulling them down slow. Trent’s eyes follow, glittering, darkening in lust. But you turn around, blocking his view. Shoving your ass out, panties and all. Trent can see they’re a little soaked through, and he chuckles. You’re enjoying this just as much as he is.

You give a little wiggle in response and remove your blouse, both arms crossed, raising the bit of clothing over your head and casting it aside carelessly. It falls at Trent’s feet, and he moves to pick it up.

You stop him. _Click_ and _snap_ and your bra falls forward from your shoulders. The way his eyes bore into your tits, and you swear he just licked his lips at the fucking sight of you. He could eat you up like a fucking snack no questions asked, no hesitation. His mouth practically waters, and that’s when the band really starts to pick up. Joe’s voice is soulful, exuding the sex that meets Trent’s eyes every time he looks at you, swaying and rocking your hips, licking your lips, batting your eyelashes. He wants to eat you. He needs to.

_You can leave your hat on…_

Trent mutters the lyrics along with Joe and grins widely as those tiny panties drop. Down to your ankles. One little kick from the muscles in your legs, flicking the fabric out with your foot in one small gesture that oozes more sexuality than intended.

They land on his face, and he laughs, almost rubbing them across his nose, breathing in your scent.

Trent sighs deeply and spreads his legs wider when you straddle him fluidly, rubbing your sex over his clothed cock. The music picks up. You lean back with a groan. Nothing better than the feeling of that rough fabric against your dripping pussy. With your hands you place Trent’s on your tits and groan at the slight squeeze. He’s too good.

You get off, get on your knees, hands on his thighs, raising your ass high in the air.

It takes only one button coming undone of his pants.

Now your mouth waters.


	46. Caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you're going to come, you're going to do it again. And again. And again... and again...

Good. So good. The way your thumb gently strokes, brushes over your clit.

You imagine Trent’s fingers taking the place of yours, and the sensation of overwhelming pleasure causes your back to arch with a less-than-careful, loud moan. Brazen, you think. He’ll hear you. What he would do to you is another story.

Gently, you enter yourself with your middle finger, steadily pumping in and out while your other hand rubs against that bundle of nerves incessantly. Those waves of pleasure roll through you, from your head to your groin, almost like water ready to boil over, and you keen once, rolling your hips into the air, making the bed creak.

Yup. He’s bound to hear you now.

You finish with a sob-like moan, twitching violently as the water bubbles over and leaves you a writhing, trembling, moaning mess against the sheets. Fuck, so good.

Well, well, well.

Fuck.

The smile on Trent’s face is evident in his perfect lips. That cupid’s bow arches gracefully as the corners of his mouth turn up, and he smirks. But those eyes are piercing.

Disobedient little slut.

You’d squeak at that if you could only find your voice. You’re fucked.

Bet you came so hard, huh? Bet your pussy is still dripping with cum.

You swallow, and your heart skips a beat. He’s by the bed in seconds, staring down at you, looking smug but angry as hell. It’s those eyes. He could kill you with them if he were able to.

Suppose you wanted to be punished all along, Trent shrugs and shoves you down with one flick of his wrist, his hand on your chest, slowly sliding down your tummy, down, down, further down. You’re sensitive there and squeal when that hand reaches underneath your panties to stroke your painfully throbbing cunt. Too sensitive. You squirm, but Trent growls at you to keep. The fuck. Still. This is your punishment.

Your heart thuds in excitement. Deep down you adore how dominant Trent is with you, but now you only grow more anxious at the thought of witnessing more of his anger.

His eyes glitter almost wickedly. You love that look. The expression alone tells you he has something so pleasurably painful in mind for you.

Two fingers enter you without warning, and before you can give an aroused cry, his hand is over your mouth and his lips are against your ear, his breath so hot and his voice reduced to a threatening growl.

You’re going to come again and again and again until he grows tired of it.

Oh, and you’re going to be silent too. He could hear you all the way down the hall.

One stroke of his thumb across your clit, and your eyes roll back in ecstasy.


	47. Degradation Kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're a dirty whore. But you're his dirty whore.

On your knees.

Open up that whore mouth of yours. Good girl.

But you don’t like being a good girl for me, do you? No, you filthy slut. You were begging for this punishment all along. See, I know you. I know your body. I know every inch of it. Every spot that I touch that will have you moaning for me. Can you even hear yourself? You’re making noise for me already and I’ve barely got my cock in your mouth.

Open wider.

Fuck, yes. Beautiful. I love the way your lips stretch out around my shaft. I love feeling myself reach the back of your throat, hear you gag for me. You can take more. Go on. Mm… deeper. Yes, you fucking slut. Suck me dry. Look at you taking my thick cock. Taking it all the way down. Bet you want me to come in your mouth, you greedy little whore.

This isn’t about you though. You’re here to make me feel good. Suck it harder, bitch. I want to hear you slurping me up like it’s the last thing you’ll ever get to eat. Maybe I will come all over your face instead. That would be much more satisfying, really. To see my jizz all over your face, dribbling down your lips. Fuck, what a delight that would be.

Oh god, more. Do that again, slut. You dirty, dirty little bitch. Your mouth feels amazing on my cock. I’m so close. So close- I’m going to come. You better swallow like the greedy slut you are.

Just as I thought.

A little come on your face makes you look perfect. Mm… stick out your tongue, I’m almost done.

Now get on the bed.

Oh, doll. Did you really think I was finished with you yet? Not even close. Spread those legs wide for me. Let me see that wet cunt of yours. You want to come, don’t you? Hmm… maybe I’ll let you come as soon as I get off again. Who knows. I feel like I could go all day. Could you? Of course you could. You are such a filthy cockslut.

Let’s see…

Either you want me to come inside you or come on you.

Maybe I can come two more times, just for you, you dirty whore.

 


	48. Trent x Robin x Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trent likes inviting Robin to share.

Trent is that scorching demon growling over you, allowing his green eyes to rake up and down your body with some sort of ravenous lust glimmering in them that gives you goosebumps. Robin is the one whispering in your ear, holding you from behind, telling you softly in that sweet, gentle voice of his how he’s going to fuck the shit out of you and then kissing your cheek with a light chuckle.

Both waste no time in getting you on that bed, tying you down, limbs splayed, spread, and bound at each end of the mattress. Robin crawls in after you, running his large hands up your thighs, loving the way you shudder at his touch. Then those hands slide underneath, lifting your hips a little so he can bury his face in your cunt. He almost has as skillful of a tongue as Trent does. Robin attacks your clit with some kind of hunger, humming as he goes, and Trent watches, expression that of a dreamlike state while he softly rubs and palms at his half hard cock.

It’s his turn to make a move, and he climbs over top of you, ass and back facing Robin, who stares up at him with something of a devious smirk before going back down on you more avidly than ever. A high moan escapes your lips as that wet tongue flicks mercilessly at your clit. Trent, straddling your chest and nonchalantly rubbing his cock in between your breasts, places two fingers in your mouth, lazily fucking in and out between your lips, eyes glittering in lust. You tighten your wet mouth around his fingers and groan inwardly as you feel the warm pre-cum seeping from the head of his swollen, hard cock.

Trent orders you to open and you do so obediently while he gets up on his knees and lowers his thick member into your mouth, slowly yet steadily thrusting himself in and out of you. He gasps and growls, entangling his hands into the sheets and pillows above your head, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of your mouth wrapped around his shaft.

Robin looks up once more, and his mouth drops at the sight of Trent fucking your mouth above him.

It’s too tempting really.

You hear Trent let out a high pitched moan from Robin’s tongue softly rimming his asshole. Immediately Trent pulls out and reaches behind to shove his guitarist’s head deeper into his ass. It’s new, witnessing Trent in this frazzled state, moaning and muttering obscene encouragement with his red lips parted and his eyes squeezed shut. But Trent hasn’t forgotten who’s in charge as he sits up, turns around, and grabs Robin’s face, pulling him in for a searing kiss.

You stare in awe at these two beautiful men making each other mewl like a couple of whores above you. They haven’t forgotten you, have they? Your pussy is throbbing for some attention, and you whine, begging for Robin’s mouth again and pulling at your restraints desperately. With a smirk, the two men notice you below them and lay down on either side of you.

Both of their mouths on your tits.

Their hands sliding down towards your dripping cunt to finish you off.

What fun.


	49. More Spankings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He won't ever let you get used to it.

You have never been in a more humiliating position.

Trent shoves you roughly against the edge of the bed, hands bound behind your back, skirt hiked exposing your ass. Thankfully he allows you to keep your head to the side and not pressed firmly into the mattress. Knowing this, you think he can’t be that angry.

Can he?

In fact, he can be more.

Maybe as soft as a lover’s caress as his gloved fingers glide and trail up and down your ass.

Or perhaps harsh. Like the pounding sensation of his two fists connecting with your cheeks as they come down on your soft, tender flesh.

You squeal and lower your ass only for a moment to inch away from him, but the sharp slap keeps it raised obediently.

He does this for a bit. Gently petting your skin almost. Pinching your ass. Practically groping it, and forcing a squeal out of you as you have still not gotten used to the now fading sting. He brings it back with

one

two

three

four

FIVE fucking spanks, but that’s only the beginning really. Because after he makes you scream, he makes you purr like a kitten at the tender caresses he sends your quivering skin immediately after.

That leather. You shiver. It’s cool to the touch against your hot skin. And what a delicious sting. You’re drooling against the bedspread with each smack, mewling like a slut as the leather gloves on his hands splay out over your ass and tease over your wet pussy.

Just the right amount of pleasure. You’ll never get used to the pain.

 


	50. Fingering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trent's a fucking tease.

Trent’s taken you to the back of the tour bus away from his other bandmates (although a smirk from Robin tells you they know exactly where you’re going and why). His lips are on you immediately, mouthing at your skin, nipping at your neck, kissing your jaw, biting your lower lip; he could draw blood if he wanted to really. A small whimper escapes your parted lips, and you hear his low chuckle, feel that warm breath against your flesh, and shiver as those goosebumps begin to form.

With one hand, Trent takes yours and shoves it down his pants, his breath now hot against your throat while your fingers stroke his shorn member. Then with his other hand, slipping down your stomach, towards the waistline of your pants, his fingers rub over your clit in one fluid motion, and you whine wantonly. He laughs again when you clamp your free hand over your mouth, hoping that other guys won’t here your noises.

Trent grins, and his fingers continue to stroke you, lazily this time, wanting to hear more of those sweet, small sounds from your mouth. You want it bad, begging him for a finger, two maybe, anything to make you come, and your hand wrapped around his cock pumps faster. That tongue flicks out to lap at the side of your neck, and finally he slides one finger inside, stroking your wet walls gently yet eagerly. Your eyes roll back in your head as you groan long and low, needy. Trent enjoys the fact that you’re enjoying yourself, enjoying the feeling of his fingers working you from the inside out. He shoves another one inside you, a little more harshly this time, ushering a squeak from your covered mouth. Your hand moves out of his pants and clutches his shoulder desperately.

Think you can take one more? Trent smirks at you, and you think you could melt instantly with those eyes on you. A third finger works its way deep inside of you, and Trent grins when you squeal. Those finger curl and straighten, and you feel as though you could explode any second.

Then his thumb brushes against your clit, and small stars dance across your eyes as the waves of pleasure roll through your body, forcing your tummy to contract, your chest to heave wildly, your breath to hitch.

Trent gasps with you, and the movements in his hand rapidly increase. As do the sounds coming from your red, raw lips. You come all over his hand before you can warn him and shudder, falling against his chest with twitches and moans.

He seems all too proud of himself for making you feel this way. In your high, he pulls his fingers out, his hand away, and sucks on them, gazing at you, his eyes glittering.

You groan inwardly.

What a fucking tease.

 


	51. Edging Trent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Messy boy just wants to come.

It’s just one finger he goes nuts over.

One. Finger.

Trent bucks his hips up once and whines, high-pitched, extremely desperate, and grimaces when he hears you chuckle. You enjoy his suffering, all tied up tight, arms and wrists bound to the chair and behind him, ropes lacing up his biceps and connecting to rungs in the seat. A towel lies beneath him. For clean up. You know he’s so messy when he finally lets go.

He’s messy now, his cock erect, resting up against his tummy, which contracts and expands at just the silent mention of you reaching out, threatening to touch it.

That’s how much he wants to come, how much he has been denied, how full he is that he could just release by the tip of your finger. You grin and lick your lips at the lewd sight. He’s wrecked, utterly wrecked, but you’re hardly satisfied. Your hand reaches out again, and immediately Trent’s raspy breaths quicken and his chest heaves, up and down, up and down. Please. Oh god. Please. Fuck… fuuuuuck.

You’re pumping up and down on his cock, both hands slick with lube and pre-cum. You feel both sliding down his shaft, from the slit, down the base of his balls. Your gestures are slow but steady, and your eyes are on him the entire time, watching his brow furrow, his wet, raw lips part, his jaw clench. It’s entertaining really. He so desperately wants to come, but just when you feel him tremble violently beneath your hands, just when you hear his needy whimpers, hear him beg, “mistress… fuck! Mistress!” you let go completely, and the fucking groan in protest makes you laugh outright.

It hurts. He looks at you with pleading, puppy dog eyes when he says it, and god, is he fucking pouting? His suffering makes you wet, fuck, it does. You enjoy the slight pucker of his pink lower lip while he begs and pleads. You swear you hear his voice break a little.

It’s been nearly a half an hour, and he still has not come yet.

You decide to be a tease. Torture him a little further.

Trent’s eyes are on you like a hawk- well, your fingers actually. How they move towards his throbbing, quivering cock, how he practically lifts himself to meet them, to get just the faintest hint of a touch, anything, and you pull away, pushing him back down with your free hand.

Please…

No.

More whimpers. How cute. That alone deserves at least a little friction.

He practically cries out in alarm at your hand wrapped around his shaft, stroking and pumping wildly. Trent ruts into you, attempting to quickly bring himself some relief. His attempts are futile.

Trent can’t come without your permission; he fucking knows that, you remark coldly with a sharp slap to his cock. Trent squeaks at the short blow, and you giggle, watching it wobble against his stomach, leaking just a little bit more.

Does your precious whore want to come?

Trent nods frantically, eyes squeezed shut, a few whimpers and moans escaping his lips. His voice breaks some more, and he’s probably crying at this point. How beautiful, you think when you see one tear squeeze out of the corner of his eye. How you’d love to see him bawl like a baby, snot pouring from his nose. You ask one more time, and he sobs out a docile “yes” before groaning long and low. Your hands are on him again and this time, you have no intention of stopping.

Trent’s noises increase in volume, rhythmically, and his head snaps toward you, his large eyes begging for permission.

Go on and come, baby boy. Come for me. You croon soft encouragements at him, quickening the strokes of your hand and using your thumb to brush and rub against his head. Trent keens and rolls his hips into your hand, but your free hand presses against his tummy, holding him down while you work to get him off. It won’t take long, and sure enough, ribbons of cum shoot from Trent’s cock, splattering against his chest and stomach, hitting his face and running down his full lips. A noise of awe erupts from your open mouth at the glorious sight, and you keep going, hoping to see more.

The friction is too much for Trent, and you are unrelenting, smirking at his squeals and groans for mercy. He jerks, scooting the chair a bit, waiting for the feeling of extreme discomfort to end in his ruined orgasm. A strangled noise escapes his lips and then you finally stop, releasing his cock but not without another smack. Trent falls back against the chair with a heavy sigh and leans his head back, eyes closed, mouth hanging open and releasing his hot breaths.

Good boy, you praise him and catch a hint of a smile before you press the side of his face against your chest, letting him take in your scent, breathing against you in exhaustion.

You love torturing your slave. He loves the pain.


	52. After Woodstock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woodstock wasn't horrible, Trent.

It was a fuck up. Everything about it was shit. You can hear Trent muttering against you as he falls against you, mud and sweat and all. He’s probably bleeding too. You only have yet to find out as you lead him to the showers backstage, watching the mud drip and stain behind him with every step.

He’s still murmuring under his breath. It wasn’t enough. So many errors. So many goddamn fuckups. All of it was a fuck up. A fucking fuc-

You shush him quietly, soothingly and position him gently under the shower head before turning it on. You silently wish that the both of you were back home in yes, the Tate house where the hot water is at. Trent shivers beneath the ice cold water, hugging himself and staring at you with large eyes.

It was amazing as always, you simply say while lifting his soiled top from his shoulders. Shut the fuck up, Reznor.

He merely blinks once and lets you undress him. He’s troubled with the way things turned out; you can obviously tell as you kneel down to remove his shorts and underwear, and to reassure him, you reach up to squeeze his hand. The gesture itself relaxes him if only a little bit.

You know how it goes. You know how he is. Some will call it neurotic. Fuck that. He needs you. That’s all it is. Your smile to boost his self-esteem, to help him realize that nothing he does will ever seem like a “fuckup” to you. You give his hand another squeeze, rubbing your thumb over his flesh tenderly.

Stepping off to the side to let him wash the mud and whatever else from his body, you notice his movements. Trent is tense and lost within himself, probably still worrying about the festival, pondering over it senselessly, beating himself up over it even. Once he finishes, shivering and trembling as the water drips from his body, you hurry over with a towel, wrapping it around him and pulling him in closer. Trent lets you pat his hair dry, and you feel his warm breath against your neck while you wrap your arms around him, towel and all, rubbing your hands over him in order to warm him.

Trent rests his forehead against the dip in your shoulder. The gesture alone tells you he thanks you for always supporting him, and with a smile, you let him press against you, running your fingers through his hair and closing your eyes against his embrace.

 


	53. Unplanned Pregnancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trent will stand by you through everything.

You don’t know what to do really. In fact, you’re terrified, staring at those double bars on the stick on the toilet, mouth quivering a little, brows furrowed in confusion and maybe in slight panic. Trent always used protection with you no matter what you said; he knows how to protect you but somehow. Somehow, you messed up.

You don’t think he would want it. He’s a rock star. Famous. Groupies swooning and grabbing at his feet for him, his music, his body, everything. Maybe once he finds out that you’re pregnant, he’ll leave. Because that’s all you are. A groupie. Nothing to him. He doesn’t love you. And he certainly won’t support you with this baby.

When he comes home, you don’t know how to tell him, but you do, swallowing that nervous lump in your throat and looking everywhere but at him. Trent’s green eyes widen at your words, and that’s when you begin to convulse with tears, letting the stress of this realization wash over your instantly. You knew it. He won’t do it.

Trent taking your hand in his shocks you; you almost want to pull away. You don’t want his pity. In fact, you’d rather leave now and leave him alone to more important things than you. You don’t wish to burden him anymore. Trent listens to your words through your constant tears and soft sobs, shaking his head, grabbing your other hand, pulling you close abruptly. He gently quiets you, rubbing your back with his hands, running his fingers through your hair tenderly.

Shh… he croons. He won’t leave you, he promises. He loves you so much, don’t you see that? He won’t ever let you doubt yourself. You’re precious to him. So precious.

This news is sudden, he admits, but he won’t abandon you when you need him most. If you want to keep the baby, Trent swears he will help you take care of it. If you don’t want the baby, Trent will respect your wishes no matter what.

The expression on his face is serious and so loving. You know he means every word just by staring into his eyes. You wrap your arms around him, covering his face in kisses and thanking him. Trent kisses you back passionately, holding you close. In fact, he’s so overjoyed that the child is his.

However, when you both make love, you make him wear a condom. There is no way you will try for twins.

Trent chuckles and kisses you again.

 


	54. Self-Esteem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's good Trent has you to encourage him.

He’s getting too old for this. Trent murmurs these things to himself, standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom and running a hand over his now short hair. Too ugly really. He’s regretting cutting his hair. Everyone liked him, adored him when he was a long haired charismatic rockstar with drug issues. Now no one gives a shit, and he’s just an ugly, old cynical man whose music has become nothing but a memory. He doesn’t think you hear him from the bedroom, but you do, and you calmly get up to wrap your arms around his waist from behind, resting your chin against his shoulder.

Are you kidding?

You want to scold him.

You think he’s absolutely beautiful. He was a beautiful, dark rockstar, but he was in pain. The fact that he is getting his life together and trying to be happier is even more attractive. And as for his hair? You love that you can see more of his freckles without all that hair. To make him smile, you silently count them with your fingers and kiss his cheek sweetly.

He’s so beautiful to you; never call yourself ugly again, you say sternly.

Yes, ma’am.

You giggle and turn his head to face you, giving him another sweet, soft kiss on his lips.

With a sly grin, you let your hands splayed at his back move down towards his ass, giving it a good, firm squeeze. You rather like the fact that he has been working out too, getting physically healthy as well. In fact, you like it a lot.

Trent grunts at your hands at his ass and chuckles, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. What would he do without you?


	55. Responsibility™

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trent has four kids; of course he's going to make a great father.

You had decided to keep the baby.

Trent keeps to his promise, overjoyed. Once you have the child, a baby boy, exhausted and sweaty and in need of Trent’s arms around you, he’s there, by your side, hand on your forehead, lips against your temple, whispering sweet nothings on how well you did, how beautiful your baby looks, how proud he is of you. You smile, a bit bleary eyed and sleepy, loving the way Trent smiles softly down at you.

You offer for him to hold the infant, and Trent’s face changes instantly. He stares down at the child and then back at you in surprise.

Really?

You nod. He is Trent’s after all.

With the gentlest of hands, the hands that would stroke your hair tenderly, Trent reaches for the cooing baby and holds him against his chest, resting his head ever so carefully in the crook of his arm. Against the clothes that wrap around your child, you watch him move and kick slightly before nestling in his father’s warm, protective embrace. Trent gasps softly at that and smiles down at the sleeping child, beaming almost.

When he glances at you, Trent’s eyes are a bit wet with tears. You’ve never seen him cry. Ever, really. Now you’ve seen a softer side of Trent that makes you smile. The way he holds your newborn son. The way he promises to take care of both you and the child. You believe him and pull him down to you gently for a kiss. You know he’ll make an amazing father.


	56. Railing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be a good toy for Trent.

So. Fucking. Beautiful.

Trent draws the rope in tight around your arms and wrists with a sharp tug while rasping soft encouragements in your ear. His breath is hot against your neck; goosebumps fan out over your skin, making you twitch and quiver against him. Your hands ball into fists instinctively as a small moan escapes your lips. His callused fingers run over your trembling flesh and wrap around your waist, gripping your hips. Like you weighed nothing at all, he hoists you onto the mattress so that you are lying face down on your tummy, hands bound securely behind your back. You’re surprised a bit at his strength considering how skinny he is.

Your face is muffled against the sheets and pillows, your body squirming beneath the weight of his groin resting atop your back. Trent’s taken a degrading approach to fucking you tonight. You grunt against his body on top of yours, pressing into you, breathing heavily against the back of your neck. His hands travel to your ass and before you know it, his fingers work at removing your underwear, flinging it to the side to God knows where. Both hands come down against your cheeks with an abrupt slap and you squeal almost wantonly, rutting against the bed, whining for some release; you feel you’re certain to leave a damp patch on the sheets. Trent is certain of that as well.

He enters you in one smooth, fluid motion, grunting in satisfaction along the way. You feel so good around him. Trent smirks slightly as he says it breathily with each rough, sure thrust inside you. Deep inside you. It’s as if he wants to reach your womb, tear you open, rip you apart in a writing heap of pleasure.

You need to breathe, desperately, and you wiggle just a little bit beneath Trent, groaning as his length offers the right amount of friction you need to climax. You’re so close really. Too close. And your lungs are burning. Trent bends over against you, rasping in your ear. Pulling you up so that your head is raised and resting against his shoulder, Trent growls at how wet you are, how he’s going to fill you up with every drop of his cum. His dreads brush against your flesh while he pounds into you, and you whine, letting him hold you up some more so that you are on your knees, trembling against the heat of his sweat slick body.

With each thrust, Trent’s hand snakes down between your legs, rubbing your clit mercilessly while continuously thrusting up into you, impaling you on his hard, throbbing cock. You come, screaming, and Trent moans loudly in assent, waiting for you to come down from your high, only to push you forward flat on your face once more.

His thrusts are erratic, and the oversensitivity in your cunt makes you moan and whimper, but he comes as well shortly after, falling forward on you with a pleased groan.

Undoing the rope around your wrists and arms, Trent plants a sweet kiss on the top of your head.

You make such a good toy, beautiful.


	57. Trent just being cute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He desperately tries to keep up with that bad boy image.

  * Sitting criss-cross in his seat
  * That crooked smile he always gives in interviews
  * Being an awkward anxious baby
  * Glancing around anxiously
  * Twiddling his thumbs
  * Shifting in his seat nonstop
  * Running his fingers through his long hair continuously
  * Smiling big and giggling when something really makes him happy
  * Calling you pet names in that husky, nasally voice of his
  * Kitten, angel, beautiful, baby girl, etc.
  * Standing close behind you and pressing his adorable nose into your hair just to breathe in your scent
  * If you’re shorter than him, he’ll wrap his arms around you while doing so
  * If you’re taller than him, he’ll stand up on his tiptoes to do it and occasionally rest his chin on your shoulder
  * Randomly grasping your hand during anything
  * Walking, under the table at a restaurant, etc.
  * Pulling you in for a quick kiss and actually blushing deep red afterwards
  * Spooning you when you cuddle, after sex, etc.
  * Playing with your hair without even realizing it
  * Giving you gentle neck, shoulder, and back massages
  * Laying his head on your lap and falling asleep



 


	58. Threesome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only if she says yes.

With one crook of her finger, you approach Mariqueen docilely. You still can’t believe that she is allowing this, that she actually wants to do this. The idea came from Trent first, and before, you were worried what Mariqueen would think. He is her husband. This is her decision, Trent reminded you, considering any wife had every right to feel some animosity towards another woman who their husband was sleeping with.

Now her lovely eyes are on you, glazed over in lust, a smirk evident on that pretty mouth of hers. Mariqueen takes you into a soft, sensual embrace, wrapping her arms around you from behind and gently, slowly unbuttoning the front of your blouse. Trent’s eyes are on you, slightly amused, increasingly aroused. He’s lying on the bed, watching the both of you. Each caress Mariqueen gives you makes you sigh in bliss. Abruptly, she parts your blouse, and you squeak, hearing Trent groan beneath the both of you.

There’s those perfect tits you’re so proud of.

She croons this to Trent and gives the side of your neck a soft, open-mouthed kiss. Get him hard for her.

You obey instantly, tearing off Trent’s underwear and wrapping his cock in your hand, steadily pumping up and down and enjoying the hiss of pleasure that escapes through his clenched teeth. Hovering over him, you gasp as Trent’s mouth meets your breasts, tongue flicking out over one nipple and moving on to the other. You shudder and increase the movements of your hand on his cock. His mouth always feels amazing on you.

Mariqueen’s eyes are on the both of you, and her next order comes before you least expect it.

Ride his face.

You can’t say no to that. As soon as you gently lower yourself on top of him, Trent lifts his head eagerly to lave his tongue along the slit of your cunt, and you gasp. Mariqueen busies herself with straddling Trent’s waist and rocking her hips against him, moaning at the feeling of his length inside of her. Trent groans, and his noise vibrates against your pussy, making you mewl and brace yourself by placing a hand on his expansive chest. Mariqueen’s noises mix with yours. You feel yourself getting closer with every flick of Trent’s tongue against your clit, and in a movement of desperate action, you grab his hands and place them on your tits, moaning long and loud against Trent’s muffled and surprised groan.

Mariqueen purrs as she continues to bounce on his cock and then lets a short cry escape her lips as she orgasms. Her long, beautiful hair falls to the side as she trembles in her high, smiling in breathless satisfaction. With her attention on you now, still ready to come frantically, Mariqueen pulls away from Trent’s now throbbing, leaking cock and crawls towards you, resting her perfect hands on your shoulders and pulling you in for a full, heated kiss.

The both of you moan into it, pressing against one another, frantic and needy. But not as needy as Trent. One twitch and sharp movement from his legs, and the two of you on top notice. Laughing softly, Mariqueen places her knees on top of Trent’s legs to still his shuddering, and the both of you grin when you hear his high moan.

Get her off and maybe we’ll let you come.

You decide you could do this more often if Mariqueen says yes.


	59. Oral Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trent knows how to make you squeal.

First he gets you on your back, flush against the sheets and pillows with a less than chaste kiss on your aching lips, aching for his.

Trent’s lips are soft, as usual. They are perfect, and you gently moan against his mouth, allowing that moan to fall from your now raw, wet lips as he breaks away from you, slowly making his way down your body with his mouth and tongue. Trent’s teeth and lips graze across your jaw, trail down your throat, travel down the valley between your breasts, pausing to kiss both of them. As his mouth continues to go lower, so does his hands, and you find yourself breathing heavier with every touch, squeeze, and caress he gives you.

You feel his tongue first down there and let out an uninhibited squeak. Trent chuckles against you, loving how riled up you can get by just one flick of his tongue. But after that wanton lick, he leaves slow, sweet kisses along your inner thighs.

You begin to whine, impatient of how he teases you already. You buck your hips up abruptly, hoping he notices. Even if he does, Trent keeps his focus trained on the soft skin of your thighs, laving his tongue there and looking up slightly to study your reaction.

You’re wrecked. Absolutely wrecked already.

With a pleased smirk, Trent flips his dreads to the side of his neck with a casual head toss and lowers his head slowly yet surely towards your desperate heat while his hands slide sensually up and down your hips. The first open-mouthed kiss against your wet cunt is warm, too warm; it almost becomes searingly hot in the most pleasurable way, wet and hot and soft. You mewl at the sensation, and your free hand (the one that’s not closed into a fist in your mouth) travels down until you come in contact with Trent’s dreads, tugging and pulling gently at first. The gestures become frantic when he doesn’t stop, and you let out a muffled shriek, nearly yanking on them.

With a breathy, satisfied sigh, Trent closes his eyes in bliss and gently enters you with his tongue, pumping in and out, in and out. He breaks away for a moment with a loud, rude smacking sound and fingers your clit for a bit, watching the way you twitch and quiver with each touch. He moves back down on you as avidly as ever, flicking his tongue at your throbbing clit mercilessly and holding you down with his hands on your hips.

Trent’s mouth is heaven and he refuses to stop, groaning loudly against you as you beg for more, feeling yourself reach your climax. You roll your hips, but he keeps a hand on your tummy until you shudder against him, finally coming and coming hard. Trent gasps a little when you do and stills the movements of his tongue, only softly stroking you with it, licking you clean.

You whimper in your high, feeling his warm, wet muscle eating you up, finishing you off, and you quiver at the quick kiss he gives you before wiping his mouth and climbing up over you to press his lips against yours, making you taste yourself on his tongue.

You taste delicious, Trent murmurs against your mouth.


	60. He Couldn't Be Prouder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He'll support you in everything.

You’re in a band. It hasn’t been easy but you’ve made it this far with many small gigs, popular reviews, and finally one hit single. Trent hears it on the radio first, and as soon as he gets home, all you can hear is the muffled pounding bass from his car speakers. A sweet kiss and a warm embrace meet you on the other side of the door.

Trent signs you to his Nothing label and lets you record new tracks in Le Pig just to show you how supportive he is of you. You get a lot of work done with him by your side- most of the time. Sometimes Trent shows you how proud he is of you in there, and the two of you emerge from the sound booth with mussed up hair and staggered breathing.

Just little things like that.

Quick pointers and new sounds to introduce you to along with another quickie.

Trent’s there for you every step of the way through thick and thin, because now with the fame comes the stress, the overwhelming stress of writing another album or another single. Now you know how he feels. After every interview, Trent is there to whisper encouraging words in your ear and give you a quick kiss on the cheek. He remains there until the end.

And when you perform, Trent is right there back stage cheering you on, threatening to remove anyone who gives you a hard time, watching you with the same look in his eyes he gave you when you kissed him for the first time.

Why?

Because he loves you.

He’s proud of you.

He will do whatever it takes to help you follow your dreams.


	61. New Toy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trent will indulge in your wishes and fantasies.

The both of you always shop for new equipment and “toys” together, but this time Trent takes the initiative to go out on his own, pick up something new, surprise you. He knows you’ll like it. The two of you have been talking about it, tentatively at first. Nothing set in stone. Trent makes the first move in making it happen, however, and here you are, sitting in front of him, an eager smile on his face and a quizzical look on yours as you open the fairly new black box.

When you lift the lid, you breathe in softly and hold it, looking down at the contents contained inside. You enjoy bondage. Something about it with Trent is invigorating and exciting. You enjoy the thrill of it, the slight pain, the denial of release and pleasure but the constant whisper of it right there, waiting to explode and surge through your body. But this. This sends a tingle down your spine and rests between your legs, making you long to groan inwardly.

Trent stares deeply at you, watching and waiting for your reaction.

Inside the box is a bundle of rope and a hitachi. Oh, Trent… you hear yourself murmur under your breath and he hears it too, chuckling slightly. Sliding closer next to you, Trent tucks a tendril of your hair behind your ear. The gesture itself shouldn’t arouse you but it does. Trent’s warm breath is on your ear, your neck, making the soft hairs of it stand on end.

The effect he has on you is apparent to the both of you, and the fucker almost snickers. Then he begins to whisper what exactly he’ll do to you with these devices of torment and pleasure, his voice breathy, husky, filled with honey. You wish you could lick every last drop from his tongue.

He’ll tie you up tight. You moan at that. You can almost feel the harsh tug and pull of Trent’s fists on the end of the rope. You can almost feel the scorching burn against your skin, sure to leave a temporary but visible mark on your flesh all the same. He’ll get you on your back, breathless, needy, wanton, and wrecked all at once, the rope digging into your arms and forearms and wrists, wrapped around your tits and tummy and thighs, restraining you in a perfect frogtie that keeps you spread and vulnerable for Trent to do whatever he wants to your defenseless, throbbing cunt.

You can’t move. You can’t squirm. You can only moan and whimper and beg for more as he turns that toy on to its lowest setting. Tying it to your thigh, the tip against your clit. Watching the vibrations of the hitachi send you shamelessly moaning, pleading for more. So he turns it up one notch, and the speed increases only a little bit but it’s not enough, goddamit. You want more, you needy slut. You wish you could buck your hips up for more, but Trent is unrelenting, a smirk evident on his face.

Pulling away from you slightly, Trent watches your face, amused that only his voice and his words can leave you so uncontrollably _wet_. He asks if you want to try it out.

Of course you do.

There’s something at the bottom of the box, though, and Trent blushes a deep shade of crimson when you pull it out. He stammers that if you want, you can use it on him, eyeing the hitachi sleeve with almost a hunger.

Trent tying you up is one thing.

Tying Trent up will be much fun indeed.


	62. Voyeurism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just another fantasy of his.

Heavy breathing and the rough sound of skin slapping skin reaches your ears. Your own rasping breaths mixed with your high moans and whines mingles with the rest of the noise. You can feel the hard cock buried within your cunt and the hands gripping your flesh, one wrapped around your neck and the other grasping your hip.

Looking up though, it’s not Trent. It’s Brian. Brian’s hair falling against your chest. Brian’s eyes gazing down at you in lust. Brian’s cock pounding into you deep.

Mewling softly, you lean your head back. Trent is right there, sitting across from the bed, cock in his hand and stroking it softly while he watches intensely. His eyes are on you.

Trent had explained his fantasy to the both of you. He’s always wanted to watch you getting fucked by another man, and naturally, Brian was there to contribute. It arouses you immensely, hearing Trent’s short breaths while Brian fucks into you continuously. You’re pleased that he is enjoying this just as much as you are. Brian smirks down at you, moaning obscene encouragement. Then, with one hand resting on your tummy, he sticks two fingers into his mouth, sucking on them, slicking them up. He makes his intentions clear that he wants you to come first as he rubs those wet fingers against your clit, ushering out more brazen moans from your lips.

You come all over his stiff cock, shuddering and twitching beneath him, whimpering and whining his name while he continues to thrust into you. The overstimulation is somewhat painful, but you brace yourself by clinging to the foot of the bed over your head, your moans urging him to finish.

Brian pulls out first and snaps his fingers, gesturing you to get on your hands and knees. You can see Trent now, staring at you, lips wet, eyes piercing, cock erect against his hand and stomach. He’ll be able to see every face you make, hear every sound that falls from your lips. Brian slides into you just as easily as he had before but with a rougher intent, making you squeal. Placing his hands on your hips, he pounds into you vigorously, ready to release deep inside of you.

Fuck, you hear Trent groan under his breath, and he leans forward before getting up and approaching you, cock level with your face, flicking his wrist frantically.

Gonna come, you filthy slut.

Open your mouth.

Both men are talking down at you, both on the edge of release, both sounding desperate. With a coy smile, you part your lips for Trent and rock your hips back for Brian.

Brian finally spills his seed into you with one last powerful thrust and a whiny moan. Trent growls as he comes all over your face, watching in awe, mouth open as his cum sprays your cheek and drips down your lips. Good girl, he praises you when you flick your tongue out to lap it up.

Thank you princess, Brian kisses your cheek as he pulls out.

What a good little whore you were for him, Trent strokes your hair and kisses your lips. Thank you, baby girl.

 


	63. "Skull Fucking"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you're willing to take risks with him.

You love being on your knees for him, lips wrapped around his thick cock, sucking avidly just for his pleasure.

But this time you’re feeling a little masochistic. Choke me out with your big, fat cock, you practically beg incoherently. You want to lose air with his hot length down your throat, constantly fucking in and out, in and out. Trent either doesn’t hear your noises of distress or he completely ignores them. He is so far down your throat, it’s almost as if you can feel the distention in your neck. You want to swoon, and not just from the lack of air or the fact that your lungs are burning.

Trent’s hands are on your head, fingers stroking your hair, yanking on your tendrils and making quick tears prick your eyes. You blink them back so he can’t see them and manage to wrap your mouth tighter around his cock. You’re losing air, fast, but you attempt to remain awake for just a few more thrusts past your wide open, and quite frankly, aching lips. It doesn’t take too long for your eyes to roll back in your head and your eyelids to droop as a soft ringing builds up in your ears. That’s all it is. A sharp, high-pitched ringing combined with Trent’s gruff and labored breathing. Before your eyes shut, your vision fades to black gradually, like the darkening of a television screen, and Trent quickly pulls away before you remember falling to your side, losing all consciousness entirely.

Your eyes flutter open to Trent gently crooning in your ear and the warm, nice sensation of a wet wash cloth dabbing at your face. He’s cleaning his mess from your forehead and cheek and lips, and you realize he blew his load all over you just as you blacked out.

The both of you know that this is all just a game, but one that takes many risks.

Trent murmurs to you how proud he is of you, doing so well for him, but at the same time, he makes it his job now to worry over you constantly. Are you all right? Maybe you should rest for now. We don’t have to do this again if you decided you didn’t like it.

That’s how perfect your relationship with Trent is. How unconditional his love and care is for you. He knows that it is his responsibility to protect you and take care of you as it is yours for him. Knowing that he’ll only cross lines under your consent makes you beam. Tiredly, you nod. You’re okay, you promise, and Trent offers you a quick kiss to prove that love you recognize all too well.

 


	64. Anxiety and Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He'll be there every step of the way.

Today is not a good day. Trent is gone and already out the door before he realizes what is wrong with you. You wake up suddenly with a terrible stomach ache. It’s not that kind of stomach ache, no. You know you’re not sick. But physically and emotionally you hate this day, you want to stay in bed, under the covers, and just let your body rot.

And it’s not just that you don’t want to get up and begin your day. You feel as though you physically _cannot_ get up. Your body won’t let you, and you grimace to yourself, letting out a small whine of discomfort. This has happened to you before, millions of times, and you’re surprised you survived them all, but this one in particular. This one seems like it wants to continually punch you in the gut, over and over and over again until you know in your heart that you never want to see the light of day ever again. It’s anxiety. Another bout of anxiety that you’ve suffered with since you were born. It’s chronic really; the physical side of your body feels dormant, but in pain somehow.

The emotional pain you suddenly feel as you wake up feeds into your body, forcing on you a physical ache that leaves you tossing and turning and clutching your stomach with your arms around your waist. You hate this. Every second of it. But you just don’t know how to fight it. You don’t know why it’s happening now. God, even Trent doesn’t know how you suffer sometimes.

You stay in bed, you decide. For an hour. Or two. Or more.

By the time Trent finally returns, it’s midday and he calls your name, some grocery bags in his hands. He actually feels proud of himself. Him and Brian went food shopping; he wants to make you a special dinner (well, he’s probably going to invite Tori to help because she’s the cook in the house). When you don’t answer, that’s when Trent gets a little concerned. He calls your name again and strides down the hallway towards your shared bedroom, wondering if you went out for some reason.

No, you’re still in there, wallowing in self-pity and wishing the pain would just go away but it doesn’t. In fact, once you hear Trent’s voice behind you and feel his large, warm hand on your back, gently massaging your skin, the emotions flow out of you and you’re sobbing endlessly, sniffling, hiccuping, crying aloud, then reducing your sobs to soft weeping. You want to get sick; that’s what this toxin inside you feels like.

Trent is alarmed. He doesn’t know what’s wrong, and countless times he asks you. What is it, kitten? Oh god, are you all right? You can tell me. Please, baby, I can’t help you if you won’t tell me. His voice is soft and gentle, and you wish it had the healing power to soothe your soul. It almost does. You finally let out a broken “I don’t know” and continue to cry. But Trent knows. The realization crosses his face, and then his countenance softens, looking down on you with pity. He knows exactly what’s hurting you so much. In fact, he’s dealt with it countless times himself, some of the bouts dangerous even, pushing him, making him feel so low and vulnerable and helpless; of course, he knows what you’re feeling.

Gently shushing you and crooning in your ear soothingly, Trent climbs into bed behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist possessively, protectively and presses his whole body against yours, almost as if he was a human shield of some kind, protecting you from what you’re feeling. He’s going to help you get through this, he murmurs. He understands.

Your sobs quiet eventually as he simply holds you, and you feel yourself beginning to calm gradually. The shaking in your hands slow to a stop when Trent takes them in his and presses his lips to them.

It’s okay, baby it’s okay… You’re going to get through this. I promise. You’re so strong. You can fight this. Let me help you, angel.

Pressing your lips together and sniffling up the last of your sobs, you rest your head against his chest, knowing that you’re vulnerable right now but also knowing that Trent will protect you. He presses a sweet kiss to the top of your head and nuzzles your neck, holding you tighter.

Your stomach rumbles, loudly, and the both of you hear it, giggling just a little. You know you need food, realizing that you haven’t had any for most of the day. But you wonder if you can even find the strength to get up. Trent helps you there. He carries you out of the room and brings you to the kitchen. You think, he got you this far. He’s helping you fight this. It’s just one step at a time.


	65. Body Worship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your goal right now is to make him feel so, so good.

You have Trent right where you want him; on his back on the bed completely naked and spread, waiting for you. His eyes are on you, lidded heavily in lust, and he sighs, running his hand through his wild hair as you climb on, straddling his waist and running your hands up his smooth chest.

Trent breathes in deeply at your touch and lets his eyes flutter into a soft gaze up at you before closing them completely. You feel his chest rise and fall beneath your hands and smile at how peaceful he looks. His cock underneath you however, says otherwise, and with a pleased smirk, you lean forward and press your lips against his temple, moving down from there and leaving soft, gentle kisses along his nose, both eyelids, his cheeks, and eventually, just barely ghosting over his lips. Trent lets out the breath he’s been holding with your mouth hovering over his, and his eyes open just to watch you work.

The kisses become more eager along his jaw and down the side of his neck. The first sound Trent makes is a soft grunt once you find a sweet spot at the soft bit of flesh behind his ear. You smile against it and continue to gently attack it, listening to the sounds of Trent’s breath rasping against you. Once you begin leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses against his throat, Trent makes more noise with breathy gasps and short moans.

Both of his hands snake down to your ass and grip it almost frantically, urging you to continue, god, please continue.

It’s as though you’re a vampire, attacking his neck and throat with kitten licks, love bites, and harsh kisses. You decide you love the way his moans and whimpers grow gradually louder or the way that his hips buck into you, his balls and shaft lightly brushing against your ass.

Hoisting yourself up a little higher, you lean back down to smash your mouth against his, crooking your tongue inside him, running your fingers through his hair, and gently rocking your hips along his chest and stomach. The both of you break away from the kiss with high moans. Trent automatically glances down at your ministrations along his front, mouth open in awe of you and how obscene this looks from below.

You’re so wet, he remarks with a groan, relishing the feeling of your pussy rubbing up and down his middle.

Tell me how much you want it.

You grin devilishly and crawl in between his legs, casually waiting for his answer. Immediately he starts to beg, especially when you spread his thighs a little more and raise his hips. One long lick against the soft ring of his ass is all it takes for him to fall back against the pillows, begging profusely for your pussy. Your tongue laves from his balls, up his shaft, and gently meets at the head, sucking softly while your hands slide up his thighs and sides, stroking and caressing his pale flesh.

With a loud groan, Trent lets his head fall back and allows his arms to reach up and over, grasping the headboard, knuckles white and hands shaking.

You just want him to feel good.

And it seems as though you are going to get your wish in less than no time.


	66. Self-Esteem and Insecurity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're enough for him.

He could have any other girl, you think ruefully to yourself, and yet he chooses you. You cannot help but think that he’s just doing it out of pity, to make you feel better. That you’re just a good fuck and nothing more and he will leave you as soon as he gets tired of you.

Trent Reznor is a rockstar with groupies and fans swooning at his feet, longing to be the only one in his bed tonight.

But he chooses you.

And it just doesn’t seem right.

You frown at yourself in the mirror as you pass by and then lower your eyes, beating yourself up over every poisonous thought that runs through your head. You tend to do this a lot. You’re not skinny enough, or pretty enough, or brave enough. Not brave enough to be a famous, wealthy rockstar’s girlfriend. Not pretty enough for him. You almost want to cry.

You do cry. Alone. By yourself. Wishing for these intrusive thoughts surging through your mind to just go away. Go away so you can simply feel numb.

Trent immediately knows something is up at the sight of your red eyes and quivering lip. When he asks you what’s wrong, you spill everything, every worry, but not without a good cry first. Trent watches your tears cascade down your cheeks, and it pains him to see you in pain. You explain yourself, and suddenly you feel absolutely embarrassed. You’re complaining. You just know it. All these thoughts seem so stupid, and you don’t wish to burden Trent with them. You bite your lower lip mid-sentence and avert your eyes away from his beautiful green ones, gazing at you with concern.

He doesn’t force you to continue but he understands the weight on your mind and in your chest, tearing at your heart.

Trent grips your shoulders abruptly and envelopes you into a warm embrace, tight, secure, loving. His voice resumes the tone of a growl almost when he makes you promise never to call yourself worthless. How could you even think that? Of course, you’re enough for him! He loves you. So much. You are everything to him. Perfect and so much more. He understands your hesitance at trusting his words. The life of a young woman with a rockstar for a boyfriend seems tentative at first, Trent explains, but he promises you that you are always going to be the first thing on his mind. The only thing he cares about the most. The only one he could ever love really. Because, he shrugs, you’re special. So special to him.

You are enough.


	67. Humiliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're his slave tonight.

Crawl, slave. You don’t deserve to stand in my presence.

You obey, feeling a bit self-conscious of doing so beneath his gaze. Trent’s piercing eyes are trained on every inch of your naked body, and almost instantly a rosy blush spreads out over your flesh like a stain. You feel your face heating up as you crawl on your hands and knees by his feet. Your heart pounds, but the throbbing locates elsewhere, and you give a slight moan when Trent reaches down to slide his hand along your soaked cunt.

Wet already? Slut.

You moan again. It’s needy this time, but a sharp smack to your ass quiets you instantaneously. He’s not playing around, and the strong hand that grasps your chin and raises your face harshly to stare into his eyes grips you, making red fingerprints into your skin. Trent sneers at your docile expression. Good slave. Slowly, his thumb makes its way over your lips, and as if on cue, you part them allowing him in. Suck. You obey, wrapping your mouth tight around his finger and sucking softly.

Trent groans inwardly and stares down at you with a brazen lust in his eyes. He can just imagine you sucking his dick like that. With his free hand, he grabs yours and brings it to the bulge in his pants, running your fingers over it so you can feel just how hard he is for you now. Obediently, you tighten your hand around his clothed shaft only slightly, offering a light squeeze and relishing the growls he makes afterwards. He snaps his fingers and you quickly sit back on your knees, head down, waiting for his next order. You know to do as he says and nothing more in this game of degradation.

On the bed. Now.

The sheets feel cool against your back but they will soon be soaked with your sweat and Trent’s cum by the time it’s all over. Your heart pounds steadily as you anticipate feeling him inside you.

Spread those legs nice and wide for me.

That’s it. Trent growls deep in his chest, and you hear the rustling of his pants as he approaches you, getting into position in between your thighs. You hear him undoing his fly and lean your head back, releasing a soft, aroused whimper.

Shut up.

In one fluid motion, Trent has your arms pinned above your head as he hovers over you.

Tonight you’re just my fucktoy to use and play with. Just a couple of fuckholes to fill up. I can’t wait to feel how wet you are around my cock, whore. Don’t disappoint me.

 


	68. Trent teaches you piano

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The perfect teacher.

Trent teaching you piano starts with:

  * him sitting down beside you at the bench, maybe just a little bit nervous, wondering if he’ll be a good enough teacher for you
  * running his hands through his hair as he eyes the keys almost lovingly
  * beginning with a round of rolling scales up the keyboard
  * chuckling when he catches your face, in awe of his extreme talent
  * him toning it down though, beginning with something easier and telling you to try to play up the scale, pointing to middle C
  * watching you stumble and sliding himself closer
  * wrapping one arm around you so that his hands are atop yours, guiding you through the keys
  * you feeling his thumb gently rubbing the skin on the top of your hand
  * both of your hands entwining as you eventually finish the scale perfectly
  * him kissing your cheek sweetly, praising how well you did; he’ll make a prodigy out of you yet
  * jokingly telling you to try your hand at playing “Flight of the Bumblebee” next




	69. More BDSM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's your master now.

You squirm a bit against the rope harness Trent has you in. The rope is wound around your arms and tethers your hands behind your back securely, leaving you practically immobile and completely under his mercy.

Trent decided he wanted to try again from the last time, and you couldn’t be more ecstatic. And this time, you begged him to take it up just a notch. It’s not that you are a slut for pain; you just wouldn’t mind being smacked around by him, maybe flogged a little harder, have Trent leave more red, welting marks against your soft flesh.

Trent begins with a passionate, open-mouthed, tongue-filled kiss that leaves you seeing stars and blinking rapidly in awe. Trent, or your master tonight, pulls back with a pleased, almost triumphant smirk and pats your cheek in a wonderfully condescending way. Once again you’re going to be his toy for tonight, and you automatically lean into his hand, almost nuzzling it lovingly. Trent runs a hand through your hair, lightly tugging at it and instilling his dominance, and you let out a whimper, sitting up a little higher to receive more of his touch, anything.

With a careless flick of his wrist, Trent pushes you back down on your back on the bed and walks around to grab a riding crop from the lone table where he keeps his toys during the scene. At the mere sight of it, you whine and murmur “yes, Master” to which he immediately clicks his tongue at you.

Ah, ah, ah. You’re going to stay silent for me.

Turns out, Trent has the perfect device to shut you up while he has his way with you. Setting down the crop and returning to the table, Trent brings out a particular type of ball gag with a mouth covering and approaches you, ordering you to open your mouth and placing it between your lips securely. He smiles at his work and backs up, watching you writhe and let out muffled moans on the bed. One smack of the crop against your thigh, shuts you up but not without a slight squeal.

Hmph. Making noise already and I’ve barely touched you.

The next smack comes down against your soft skin harder this time, and instantly a blotchy red blush from where Trent hit you with the crop forms. You let out a squeak and move your legs out of the way only slightly, shifting your body as if you could escape from the blows of Trent’s riding crop. With both hands, Trent forces you down, ankles pinned, keeping you from moving at all and leans in close, hot breath against your chest and neck.

Stop. Moving.

It continues this way. Trent brings down the crop against your flesh and then nurses the red welts forming with gentle rubs of his thumb and warm kisses, almost making you purr from his tender touch. But one sound out of you, and Trent continues with the punishment, oftentimes switching the tool he uses so that you won’t be able to get used to the feeling of stinging pain against your body. It only gets worse when he targets your tits or between your thighs.

One flick of his tongue or hot kiss from his lips, and you’re back to the beginning and starting all over again.

Ten hits in a row, and your eyes are squeezed shut tight while your teeth clamp down on the ball gag. You try with all your might and succeed finally. Trent notices and a slow grin forms across his face.

Now he wants to hear you, he chuckles as he remove the gag. Then his tongue and lips go to work instantly, caressing every inch of you with licks and kisses, working you to a trembling, moaning mess. You can feel your body heat up with the feeling of his mouth on you, and the pleasure goes straight between your legs.

You let everything go instantly and release every sound you’ve kept bottled up inside for so long.

I love listening to you moan for me, whore, Trent says with a hint of a growl.

 


	70. Quickie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little pre-show warm up.

The roar of the crowd almost, just barely drowns out the sounds of both your moans and small cries. The two of you are loud, and the dull thumping of Trent slamming your body against the wall over and over while he furiously pounds into you adds to the mix of shameless groans and whimpers.

You wrap your legs a little tighter around his waist, crossing your ankles at the small of his back and gripping his shoulders desperately as Trent adjusts his speed and position inside of you. The fucker gets his cock to just slide up and against that sweet spot inside of you. You know the one. The one that makes you scream in ecstasy. Just lightly brushing it for a moment and holding himself there, rolling his hips into you, Trent quickly glances up to see your face, twisted in pleasure, and he smiles triumphantly, knowing that only he can make you feel this way.

Trent’s arms wrap tighter around your waist, and he pulls out just enough so that he can shove back in, roughly, make you feel it. You’re screaming again, and Trent groans with you while he begins another round of quick hard thrusts deep inside of you. Each movement against your walls sends endless waves of pleasure towards your sweet spot, and you throw your head back, mouth open in euphoria. A string of obscenities rolls off your tongue along with his name, and on cue, as if spurred on by your praise and encouragement, Trent pounds into you harder and harder, practically rocking the both of your bodies against the wall. You take the lead for a bit, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist tighter and more securely. This gives Trent the leverage to press both his palms against the wall on either side of your head, resting his forehead against your chest.

His thrusts become more and more erratic, and you can feel him on the verge of coming. The soft whines in the back of his throat tell you as well, he’s over the edge and sure enough, Trent releases his seed inside of you, pushing in one last strong thrust that sends you grunting and groaning for more. Trent gasps, like his lungs had been burning for air the entire time, and automatically his hands find your hips again, rubbing soft circles against your skin as he comes down from his high.

Trent’s breath is hot against your neck, and his hand is equally as warm as it travels between your legs, finding that place that so desperately needs him. Your breathing staggers as he continues to stroke and caress you there, and eventually, chest heaving and mouth gasping for air, you come into his hand, feeling your body twitch and writhe against the wall.

A loud knock at the door to the dressing room backstage brings the both of you back to the reality of the show waiting for its star.

Trent growls and barks out a curt “what?” to which Chris replies with a snide tone, asking him to stop fucking his girlfriend so that they can get started with the gig tonight. Trent rolls his eyes and turns to focus back at you, staring into your eyes as he impatiently thrusts his fingers up into you one last time, awakening the oversensitivity between your thighs. With a sweet, gentle kiss against your lips, completely contrasting the gestures of his fingers, Trent murmurs that he’ll be back for more and then pulls up his pants before rushing out the door and leaving you in a daze against the wall.


	71. Green Eyes of Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're his and only his.

Maybe you were flirting a little _too_ much with the other band members.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice he’s watching you. Watching you ever so subtly place your hand on Robin’s arm while you laugh lightly at his joke. You can’t really remember what he said to you; your main focus is placing heaping coals of fire on Trent’s head. Robin laughs too while he shows you various forms on his guitar, and you swear you can see Trent’s nostrils flare as he fiddles restlessly in his seat on the couch. You can tell he’s trying to turn away from the scene but he just _can’t_ for some reason, and you smile slyly to yourself.

And so you push it. And wait. Wait for the one thing you want once you’re alone. Because you know he can’t just shrug it off. Apparently you like to cross a few lines. Push a few buttons.

Feeling your back slam against the wall and Trent’s hands gripping your shoulders until they slide down your arms to grasp your wrists and pin your arms above your head is all you wanted of course. Really. You fight back the teasing smile that begins to form to your face and stare up into those piercing green eyes filled with jealousy and feign a docile, coy expression.

What the hell do you think you’re doing?

You manage to swallow hard for his satisfaction, but on the inside you’re just wiggling for more attention.

You think you’re being real cute, don’t you? You know what that does to me, how you tease me like this, thinking that you can just go around throwing yourself at other men.

I can play games too, he growls in your ear and you swear, you need a new pair of underwear.

How many times do I need to fuck you to prove to you that you’re mine? Apparently I haven’t done enough.

You almost fucking whine at that, and once Trent catches you gently beginning to hump his leg, he slowly gazes up at you with a cool, calculating sneer.

Looks like someone is desperate to get off.

Little slut.

Hmm… Perhaps you don’t deserve to come just yet.

This time you actually let out a loud whine to which Trent clicks his tongue in disappointment.

No begging, my pretty whore. I’ve only just begun the punishment.

Oh, the plans he has for you. Plans to fuck you rough and raw tonight, over and over again. Perhaps he’ll come so many times inside you and all over you, he won’t be able to keep track. And then he’ll finish himself off for the thousandth time and leave. Leave you stranded and vulnerable on the bed, still desperate for release. Perhaps that will be the way to show you that only Trent can make you feel this way. Only Trent can do all these things and more, satisfying you like no other man.


	72. 1995 Domination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tongue and a chokehold.

Brian gives you a quick, sweet kiss on the cheek and then carelessly pushes you on your back, right in Trent’s waiting lap. You can practically feel his obvious erection against your neck and shiver, knowing he can’t wait to see you covered in both his and Brian’s cum.

You’re the only one naked in the room, chest heaving, legs spread, an invitation for a clothed Brian crawling towards you, his own hard on evident in his nearly skin-tight leather pants.

Get her ready for me.

Trent does as he’s told and grabs both of your arms, successfully pinning them behind your back with one large, strong hand. You decide not to struggle, and your heart pounds in the anticipation of what Brian will do once you’re subdued. Skillfully, Trent ties the knot tight around your wrists and holds you down against him with both hands. One glance from him to Brian, and the both of them make a silent gesture to one another, Brian grinning wickedly and Trent sighing contentedly. Those dark eyes of the wild looking man between your legs meets your gaze, and perhaps you make a noise. You can’t be sure of it but Trent chuckling at your expense above you makes you flush beet red at being this exposed and vulnerable before them.

You know it’s worth it.

One long, wet lick from Brian’s tongue, and you’re keening, attempting to bolt upright and maybe rock your hips a little, because God, you have been waiting for this, and their constant teasing never helped matters. As soon as you make a move though, Trent shoves you back down with both hands on your shoulders, making you take it, each kitten lick against your clit, each dip of Brian’s tongue into your wet cunt and the way his lips wrap around you, sucking softly.

Your eyes roll back into your head at the pleasing sensation. Fuck, you thought it was just a rumor that he went down on Jenna Jameson for nearly an hour, but now you know there was no way in hell he was bluffing. The man is a fucking champ.

But one last coherent moan is all you get as soon as Trent wraps his arm around your neck, secure and tight and taut. You begin to struggle, but he holds firm, pinning you in a chokehold and laughing at your physical distress. Inside your mind is reeling in euphoria at the sensation of Brian’s tongue against your pussy while Trent chokes you out. The only thing you can manage to do at this point is buck up your hips into Brian’s mouth helplessly, begging for more rubbing friction of that wet muscle while you slowly lose air, lost in Trent’s embrace.

Is she gonna come?

You can just barely make out Trent’s words above you. He sounds amused.

Brian pulls back from you slightly to lick his lips, suck on two fingers at once, and gently stroke them in circular motions against your clit. He hums thoughtfully.

I want to see her squirt.

Trent fucking groans at that. And then Brian moves back down on your clit as avidly as before, shoving those two fingers inside you all at once. If you could, you would scream in ecstasy, but only a strangled moan erupts from your parted lips and sure enough, you can feel it happen. Brian’s fingers against you are too much, and his tongue doesn’t quit and like a stream, it hits him. Brian shoots back abruptly, shock evident in his face gradually morphing into sweet satisfaction.

Trent groans more, louder and immediately lets you go. You sit up instantly, gasping for breath, reeling back to reality, violently coming down from your high. As soon as you calm, you glance to Trent and then to Brian, who is busily wiping his mouth with a shit eating grin on his face.

Trent speaks first.

Give me a taste.

 


	73. Drunk Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He may not be sure of his surroundings but he's sure of you.

With quite a few mixed drinks later, both you and Trent stumble through the front door of Le Pig, hands and arms entangled with each other, grasping and pulling on clothes, tearing at buttons. Trent fumbles with the buttons of your blouse restlessly, trying and failing, while muttering incoherently under his breath, to undo them and growing rather puzzled and frustrated in the tedious process.

You pull Trent against him with a small whine, far from sober, begging him to hurry the fuck up, _please_. Trent chuckles at your expense and finally stops his ministrations at your blouse and falls against you, your back pinned against the wall while his forehead rests against yours, noses nudging and bumping each other. You form a smile and sigh just as Trent does, smelling the alcohol on each other’s breath, maybe cringing a little, giggling a lot and gasping at the random hands that slink down to grasp and touch and stroke. Trent mumbles under his breath, mutters sweet and at some points, unintelligible nothings in your waiting ears. Your smile grows.

Then Trent grows a little more daring as his free hand slinks down into your pants and strokes the heat that he finds there. In just one slick, fluid motion, your pants are down and off, completely removed from your legs, and Trent’s arms are around your waist, hoist you up, and holding you tight. Drunkenly, blindly, he backs into the couch, thinking that he’ll land perfectly with you in his arms. Instead, he slides down from the cushions and onto his back on the floor, stumbling, falling, taking you with him in the process. You squeak somewhat in delight and move your body on top of him so that you are straddling his waist. The look in your eye tells Trent you mean business, and he gets the message immediately, reaching down hastily to undo his belt and pull down his pants just a little.

It all happens so fast, and you gasp at how big and unfamiliar he seems inside of you. Erratically, clumsily, Trent begins to rock his hips and fuck into you while his hands blindly reach out towards you. You fall against him with a few whimpers and a few kisses, soft and insistent. In this state, it should be more than you can handle, but Trent remains gentle and holds you to his chest, rolling over so that he can take the lead.

He’s mumbled something else. Maybe you hear him. Maybe you’re too far away, but you giggle just the same, and his low chuckles tickle your ears along with his hair that spills over your face. Just for a moment, the two of you can forget about reality and just be.

Trent kisses you again with more sobriety in his lips now. Because he’s sure of you.

 


	74. Cockwhore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You just want him to feel good.

With a fist full of your hair, Trent lifts your head, gazing into your eyes and then pulls you in roughly for a kiss. You moan into his mouth and then manage to pull yourself away from him, instead moving down into a kneeling position desperately, scrabbling and grabbing at the waistline of his pants with almost a ravenous ferocity. Perhaps Trent is amused by your sudden desire for him, but the large hand in your hair gives a sharp tug, forcing your eyes to stare up into his green ones piercing down at you.

No.

Please, you hear yourself begging. You want his cock. You want his cock in your mouth. Right now nothing would make you happier than to feel him come down your throat. It is just one of those nights of role play. The one where Trent is calling all the shots, giving the orders, holding the whip. You love being his toy for tonight. Which is why you want to serve him, pleasure him, make him feel so, so good. You attempt to do so one more time, lowering your head down rapidly to his crotch.

Trent’s hand stops you once more, but this time he means business as he hauls you up to straddle his waist, holding you close to his chest.

Fucking cockwhore. I said _no._

You whimper and whine loudly in protest and almost offer an absurd pout while you beg. Your fingers just itch to touch him, your mouth longing to stretch around his thick shaft, feeling him pulse inside of you. But Trent means what he says, and the frightening glare confirms it. Just the same, you beg some more, eliciting a small rumbling chuckle from deep within Trent’s chest.

Give me a kiss and maybe I’ll let you suck me off, slut.

You do so eagerly, reaching up to press your lips to his, loving the soft warmth that comes with the kiss and the gradual, ravenous passion that follows. Breaking away, you wait for his permission, but his eyes are glittering with lust as he gives one more order.

Kiss me.

He doesn’t want one on the lips. You know that and almost grin to yourself as you slink back down on your knees, unzip his fly, part his thighs, and get into position between them. Trent lazily spreads them further and watches you from above with an amused gleam in his eye. He relishes your desperation, the fact that you need this so bad. A slight groan erupts from his lips as you rub your hand slowly, up and down over his clothed crotch. You bend down further, your hot breath fanning out over his dick beneath his underwear.

Then you kiss it, wetly. Your first kiss is open-mouthed, your lips enveloping over his clothed balls, lightly tugging at the fabric with your teeth as you slowly pull away. Trent stares at you intensely as you run your mouth over him, feeling him get harder and harder beneath your parted lips. With each kiss, you moan in between, soft, breathy moans, needy moans, and as subtly as he can, Trent rests his hands against the armrests of his chair and squeezes them. He’s getting restless. You can tell, and you grin against his clothed bulge, mouthing at it a little more and flicking your tongue ever so lightly at his balls.

The hand atop your head makes you jump, but you quietly compose yourself and almost nuzzle into those fingers that glide through your hair.

You assume that’s a yes.


	75. Rimming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This imagine that involves two real people does in no way portray the actual personalities and characteristics of them. The acts, events, and characteristics are purely fictional. Nothing that is portrayed in this imagine actually happened.

In a situation like this, Trent doesn’t mind being controlled.

In fact, he relishes it.

He presents his ass to Mariqueen on his hands and knees, maybe whimpering a little bit, but soft enough so that she can’t hear. She does and decides to ridicule him for it. Slapping his rump and yanking on the waistline of his jeans before letting them snap back, she croons to him in that ethereal voice of hers, that voice he loves to hear simpering in his ear when she tells him she’s going to come, that she’s going to suck him off real good. This time however, she makes him blush with her words.

Dirty boy is hard already, aren’t you? Just want Daddy to lick you clean. Lick you clean and make you squirt. Is that what you want, you filthy little slut?

Trent can’t help the fact that his mouth waters at her words and her soothing voice, and he turns his head slightly, lips wet as he practically moans out, begs out to her.

Yes, Daddy please. Please eat me.

Mariqueen hums at his response and the fact that he decides to use the honorific she offered in the first place. Good boy. She yanks down his jeans in one fluid, effortless motion and runs her hands over his waiting ass gently. He fucking moans like a whore at that, something that makes a pleased smirk form across her beautiful face, and Mariqueen chuckles lightly as she leans down and laves her tongue up from the base of his balls to his sensitive. Trent immediately tenses and lets out a short cry at the unfamiliar sensation, shivering once she leaves a kiss and pulls away. She looks quite pleased with herself at his reactions, and the way he looks so wanton and frantic sends her almost weak at the knees.

Instead, Mariqueen grabs him by the collar of his shirt and practically drags him towards the bed, yanking off all of his clothes and shoving him back against the mattress. Trent gives a grunt as he lands on his back and begs her with his eyes, glazed over in lust.

Want me to eat you, baby boy?

Trent can only nod with a soft murmur and soon enough, Mariqueen’s hands are on him, pushing him gently back, guiding his legs, raising them to expose his backside to her, and her tongue begins to leave little kitten licks just along the entrance of his ass. With every movement of her tongue against him, Trent watches below him, mouth open in shock and then pure ecstasy. His head falls back with a loud groan once he feels that wet muscle drag along the ring of his hole in slow, pressing circles, making sure to hit the spot _right there._ With each lick, Mariqueen gains more and more control of him, and Trent starts to become a moaning, trembling mess beneath the workings of her skillful mouth and tongue.

It’s when those long licks up his ass make their way to his balls and shaft, stopping there to press warm, open-mouthed, sloppy kisses against them that Trent nearly loses it. Shameless noises escape his lips, and he presses further back against the mattress with furrowed eyebrows and softly parted lips. His mouth begins to form words, and he begs her not to stop, please, don’t stop, keep going- oh god, please, more… That last word ‘more’ is what catches her attention, and she places a quick yet noisy kiss against his hole before spitting directly on it. Trent jumps at the sudden sensation of her spit sliding down his ass. He raises his hips just a little more when he feels her fingers attempting to rub it in and whimpers softly.

Enter me, Daddy.

Mariqueen’s head lifts slightly, a lustful look in her eyes before she responds.

You want me to fuck you with my fingers?

Please.

Good little slut, Mariqueen praises him with one last lick up his ass.

Trent nearly squeals.

 


	76. Reassurance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He could never be disappointed in you.

Just when you think you fucked up for the last time in Le Pig, Trent doesn’t let you ruminate over it for long.

But still.

It’s difficult watching his eyes darken and dull when he realizes he has to do an entirely new take to the track once more all because you couldn’t come in on time. He doesn’t think you see it, but you do, and you almost want to be mad at him for getting so uptight over a track.

Then you stop yourself mid-thought and remember that this is Trent’s life right now. Making music and struggling to make music and struggling with his life in general, and suddenly you feel like such a bother, such a fuck-up because now he has to do it all over again for the thousandth time. Keeping your head down, you scrunch your face up to hide your watery eyes, wrinkle your nose, and sniff loudly, cursing yourself and hoping he doesn’t notice. You don’t want Trent to see you fucking cry over a track on the new album.

You’re disappointed in yourself, and you are most definitely certain that he’s disappointed in you.

You get up and walk out of the sound booth, closing the door softly behind you just so you can be alone and leave him be. Because you fucked up. Again. You made a mistake. Again. And Trent is probably frustrated, but he’s too fucking nice. He could just tell you to fuck off for a bit if you can’t do a simple task. But he doesn’t, and just his silence makes your stomach turn. You know he’s upset and annoyed.

You don’t want to cry, goddamit; in fact, you feel silly for crying over something like that, but you want his approval. In everything. Every little thing you do, you want him to be proud of you. But you know he can’t do that if you keep making so many mistakes.

You slide down the wall and collapse to the floor with a dull thump, hugging your knees to your chest and resting your head in the dip between them. The tears don’t come yet. You’re too exhausted and too worried over Trent’s reaction.

Come on, get up.

Jumping slightly, you look up, staring into that face, somewhat harsh-looking but filled with soft concern for you. You hardly heard Trent even leave Le Pig, and suddenly you feel so small beneath his gaze. He must think so little of you. You can’t do anything right-

Come on.

His voice is low, quiet, but insistent.

When you do, Trent wraps you up in his warm embrace, rubbing you back and breathing against your neck.

Don’t be such a crybaby.

I’m not a crybaby.

Yes you are. Over nothing. This whole thing is frustrating. We’re all exhausted. We’re all spent from working on this goddamn track, but I promise I won’t ever take it out on you.

But you’re disappointed in me. I know it.

Trent shakes his head, gazing into your eyes in disbelief. You don’t think he’s ever made countless mistakes before? To reassure you, he presses his lips against your forehead in a soft kiss and holds you close. Just the gesture alone tells you how much he appreciates your help and loves you so, so much.

Let’s get out of here.


	77. Collar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps a leash next?

Well, this is certainly better than the rinky-dink sex shops in your small town (and normally a creepy, old white dude runs it during the day). You blink in all the leather and dildos and fetish gear, never thinking it could be possible that all of this stuff actually existed. And no creepy white dude at the front counter. Instead, two kind-looking women sit in chairs behind it, fiddling with their nails and having quite an interesting and active conversation with each other. Some (actually good) gay porn plays on a tv in the background.

Mm.

Quality.

Trent is behind you in know time after locking up the car and casually wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close and pressing a kiss against your temple.

Find anything interesting yet?

You smirk. He would know of course. The man is kinkier and freakier than you. The both of you chuckle, and he squeezes your shoulder comfortingly, but you know why you came together and immediately head to the back of the store where the collars are hanging on hooks on the wall. Trent follows close behind.

All of this is so different, especially since you started dating him. And then expanded on your relationship. You rather enjoy the master/slave fantasy the both of you share. It’s a dominant and submissive relationship of many attributes, but Trent wasn’t about to introduce you to it completely blind. He takes care of you so well, explaining what his wishes are, asking you for your limits, each of you agreeing on what exactly it is that you want in this relationship. It continued splendidly, and then the topic of a collar for you came up.

You still shiver at the thought of it, remembering how Trent suggested it to you, you instantly agreeing; you want to do anything for your Master.

I don’t want you wearing anything trashy.

Trent is behind you, resting his chin against your shoulder and staring at the assortment of collars before you both.

You nod, and your eyes flit across the many standard leather collars, each of them etched with “slut”, “good whore”, “bad slave”, and so on into the tags. Finally, your eyes rest on one collar in particular. On the tag, it reads “Master’s slut” in tiny fine print, and the leather of the collar itself holds a maroon hue in color. It’s pretty, you decide, and automatically your hand reaches up to take it down. Trent’s hands get there first.

Ah, ah, ah, he breathes in your ear. Only Master can handle your collar. Is this the one you want?

You nod, and Trent almost beams at you. He’s so happy you want to do this. Two smiles from the women at the counter, one bag, and five minutes later, the both of you are sitting in the car while Trent clasps your brand new collar around your neck.

You look so pretty in it. So… fuckable.

You blush at his words and slightly bow your head. Thank you, Master.

Two fingers hook around your collar, and you suddenly find yourself moving forward as Trent pulls you towards him with just those two fingers for a passionate, tongue-filled kiss.

I can’t wait to fuck you in this tonight, my precious slave.

 


	78. Slow Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The only thing he wants to be is close to you.

It’s that special kind of night. Trent’s last session in rehab is finished and to celebrate, the both of you decide to make a special dinner together, just the two of you, nobody else involved. This is just for you both. Alone. Happy. Finally.

It’s double the effort and double the mistakes in making the meal with plenty of horsing around and goofing off, but eventually the two of you sit down across from each other after Trent turns on some mood music and enjoy what you have made. Conversation in minimal. You both know what you want to say, but at the moment, it doesn’t even need to be said. The two of you are simply happy. It’s finally done. You couldn’t be more proud of Trent in all that he’s gone through. And you have been by his side every step of the way.

Trent eyes you and then averts his gaze, offering a small, content smile.

What?

He acknowledges your question and only responds with another beaming smile before he speaks.

I’m just happy I have you in my life.

The familiar smooth chords of Norah Jone’s “Come Away with Me” begin to play through the stereo speakers, and you almost breath out a soft sigh. This is nice. You feel so at peace, so relaxed, and Trent shares the sentiment.

He gets up softly and approaches you, holding out his hand eagerly. You stare and then look up at him questioningly. Trent says nothing but his eyes say everything, and without a word, you stand from your seat, take his hand, and he leads you out to the middle of your living room. Pulling you close, Trent places your left hand on his shoulder and clasps the other. Your chests press together, your hands held close to your hearts as his free hand slides around your waist, resting at the small of your back. You can feel his breathing, his heartbeat, everything about him at the moment as he rocks you side to side gently, in tempo to the smooth music and voice of Norah.

A kiss presses against your temple and then your cheek and then your neck, sweetly and softly. A murmured “I love you” reaches your ears, and you return the phrase, resting the side of your head against his shoulder.

The both of you seem to swoon and glide in the music perfectly, together, as one, lost in the rhythm of it. Just as soon as it comes on, the mood changes as the brass section of Al Green’s smooth R & B inflects from the speakers. The both of you chuckle, and you almost laugh outright at Trent when he whispers with Al.

“Let’s stay together.”


	79. Angry Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That fucking bitch...

Nothing is working, and as usual, Trent ends up trashing a room just because he feels like it, just because nothing is going his way again. This is a side of him you don’t particularly like, a side that leaves the two of you fighting and not speaking to one another for a night or two. But this time upon hearing glass break and furniture getting knocked over, you rush out of Le Pig and towards the scene of wreckage with Trent standing there, breathing heavily as he hovers over the mess. Recording hadn’t really gone as planned, and Trent fumes over it, telling you not to even bring it up. You retort back snidely, advancing on him rapidly in the wake of the wrecked room. He’s never fucking calm. Why can’t he just relax and takes things one at a time? Why does he insist on piling on the stress?

It stresses you out. You know that for sure, and you go to tell him exactly that.

The both of you had been keeping most of these feelings bottled up inside but with different ways on how to confront them. You plan on raising your voice, on telling him exactly how you feel, but before you can even get close enough, right up in his face, Trent grabs your arms and shoves you back, slamming you against the wall and smashing his mouth against yours.

I don’t want to fight. I want to _fuck._

Why can’t we do both?

Trent stares at you for a moment, disbelieving what you said, and then a slow, wry smile forms on his face. With both hands, he tears at your blouse, shredding seam, buttons flying everywhere. You suppress a whimper and to match his vigor, you pull him closer to you, bodies pressed tight, breaths hot. You hear him undoing his fly, and on instinct you jump up into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist, gasping when he sends the first thrust up into you.

It’s rough and maybe a bit painful, but perhaps it is something you both need.

Obscene words and sharp cries mix in with your breathing, and maybe Trent is focused on fucking up inside you at the moment, but you catch his face in your hands and pull him in for a violent kiss with tongues fighting for dominance and teeth biting, drawing blood. You smile against his mouth, happily hearing a pained groan out of him. The bitch deserves it.

The both of you fall to the floor in a loss of balance, but you remain on top triumphantly, rocking on his hard, thick cock mercilessly, your hands wrapped around his neck in this show of sheer dominance out of you. Trent gasps at the slight loss of air but grins wickedly as he grabs your tits, managing to fuck up into you even harder against your vigorous movements.

It isn’t long before he takes over, regaining the upper hand in this little game you both play.

Fucking bitch…

You sneer.

You love it.


	80. Doctor Reznor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He'll make you feel so much better.

You don’t know what’s wrong with you. Every inch of your body is just shivering, aching for some sort of relief. It feels so, so, _so_ good inside you, but there’s a tension that comes with it, something that needs to be released to make you feel even more euphoric than you already feel. You don’t know what it is, you tell him, but you need help to reach it just to make yourself feel better and only he can help you.

Doctor Reznor nods once and immediately tells you to strip down so that he can give your body a good and _thorough_ examine. He’ll be able to figure out just what is wrong with you once he finds the source of all this contained pleasure.

You obey instantly and get up on the bed, lying on your back, legs spread and waiting for him as patiently as you can. You twitch and moan a little while he takes his time. Running his thumb over your lower lips, he begins to murmur to himself.

Hmm… not there.

While his fingers trail and trace down your neck, he still shakes his head no, but he has noticed your shivers and proceeds to move down lower until both of his hands grab and caress your tits.

Getting a reaction…

You moan whorishly and arch your back into his touch while his hands move even lower, much lower towards that spot that makes you feel so full and wet and desperate. Those fingers and hands smooth over the soft skin of your quivering thighs until he just barely brushes over your clit. You cry out loudly once you feel only his thumb, rubbing softly in small, gentle circles.

Yes! Right there, doctor!

Doctor Reznor smirks in triumph at having found the source and continues to stroke and caress your clit with that thumb, eventually adding a few more fingers to rub another shameless cry and moan out of you. Your cries and small noises you make please him immensely, but still, he is not satisfied with the results. Tentatively, he slides his index finger into your wet warmth while continuing to pleasure your clit. Pleased with your reaction of more brazen moans and whimpers, Doctor Reznor adds another finger, fucking into you gently, slowly- until you begin to beg profusely for more, more contact, more fingers, anything.

Perhaps if I apply my mouth…

You practically scream, thanking Doctor Reznor over and over again while he mouths at your swollen pussy. His fingers inside you crook and straighten as they move in and out of you at a faster rate than before. The friction sends your eyes rolling into the back of your head, and his tongue flicking at your clit has you screaming his name as you come hard.

Please come see me again if you encounter any more of these… problems.


	81. Difficult Times, Encouraging Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He won't let you fall apart.

Everything is going wrong. All wrong. And you think to yourself, you can’t take much more of this. Your heart is too weak and fragile for anything else to pierce it like a sharp dagger over and over and _over_ again. Too many times you’ve cried. You’re worried you’re losing so many people. They are all getting tired of your bullshit, aren’t they? Tired of hearing you talking about the possibility of your parents finally signing the document for that divorce that really should have happened years ago. Tired of hearing you complain about your sibling, their animosity towards you, how you never talk anymore really. Tired of hearing you bitch and moan over the ex boyfriends that never seem to find the decency to leave you alone. They’re all tired. Sick and tired.

And you’re too sick inside your heart to continue on.

It’s Trent’s large warm hand and those long piano fingers that wrap around your shaking hand that attempts to calm you down. It’s his small smile, those green eyes flooded with concern, the way he pulls your trembling, huddled form into the best hug imaginable.

He’s not sick and tired of you.

In fact, he’s ready to hear everything, listen to you cry and explain all the pain you have felt for too long.

I’ll never grow tired of you. I’ll never, ever leave you. It’s okay to cry. Don’t hold it in, kitten. Doesn’t do any good to keep it bottled up inside or it will all rush out without any warning and you’ll be left feeling worse than you were before. I’m here. Shh… I’m here. I’m listening. Even if you don’t want to talk about any of it, I will always be here.

I wrote that song about you, you know. Because you really do shine in a world full of ugliness. You matter. Please know that. You matter so much to me. I wish you could see the beauty of yourself, how beautiful you are inside and out.

 


	82. Good Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be good for him, and he'll reward you.

You tug on the restraints keeping you pinned by your wrists and ankles at each corner of the bed. It has been way too long since you have been allowed to come, but you resist the urge to ask Trent, beg him for release and risk the sharp, painful sting of the crop in his hand. In his other hand is a remote connecting to the vibrator toy inside of you.

The game had continued as such: Trent would ask you if you wanted to come and you would whimper “yes”. He would press a button on the remote and watch you squirm and writhe with a pleased smirk on his face. Just as soon as he thought you were going to come though, Trent would turn off the toy, ignore your pleas for him to keep going, and offer you an abrupt smack with his crop. This went on for at least forty five minutes, and each time he asked if you wanted to come, the toy would vibrate even more violently than the last time inside of you, bringing you closer and closer to release. You wouldn’t dare to come without his permission, though and risk another punishment all over again.

All along your thighs are red welts from where he hit you, and you know he broke you this time; each time he threatens to raise the crop, you cringe and buck up your hips, hoping for maybe just a little bit of friction from the vibrator within you. That pretty bitch laughs softly down at you, and you almost glare at him, risking him using that crop on you again.

Only this time, when he asks if you want to come, you begin to beg profusely, your voice breaking, a whine in the back of your throat erupting from your lips as you tremble and writhe against the mattress. Instead of striking you, Trent’s voice softens while he smooths strands of your hair between his fingers, and he tells you that you were such a good girl for him. He doesn’t remove the cuffs around your wrists and ankles, but he does kneel down to pull out the small vibrator from your throbbing, aching pussy. A small squeal falls from your tongue as soon as his gloved hand is stroking and caressing you there, rubbing up and down just so he can feel how wet you are. Giving a satisfied grunt, Trent moves in closer, breath blowing out over you, sending you in shivers.

You hear him hum contentedly before you feel that warm, wet kiss against you, tongue laving up your cunt, mouth wrapped around you and sucking gently, pulling away with a wet pop. Trent has you in a moaning mess before he’s even begun, and then he moves back down just as avidly, clutching your thighs and spreading your legs a little further. A wave of heat washes over you in this state he has you in, face buried deep between your legs. It seems it is his intention to have you all screamed out before he’s even finished with you. He feels your thighs, feels you thrust up into his face, and holds you down with one hand while his mouth does the rest of the work.

Trent pulls back a little to spit on your clit, rubbing it in gently with two fingers and ushering more squeals and small noises out of you. Your mouth falls open when he begins to suck on it some more, making rude smacking noises as he goes. That wave of heat mixes in with the waves of pleasure that settle over you, making your eyes roll back in your head as he keeps hitting that spot.

Your voice breaks when you ask for the thousandth time if you can come, and Trent hums against you in response, the vibrations of his voice and the constant flicking of his tongue making you shriek as you release, right into his mouth. His hand rests on your tummy as you buck up against his mouth, trembling and twitching uncontrollably as the waves finally crash and you’re left a writhing, moaning mess beneath his tongue.

His ministrations slow and cease, and then he pulls away, getting up and moving to undo the cuffs around your limbs. He praises you endlessly as he works.

Good girl. What a perfect toy for me.


	83. Threesome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Threesomes are fun when Trent's the one in the middle..

I got him prepped for you.

Al smirks wickedly at you as he refers to the skinny, little mass of dreads sitting and shifting rather uncomfortably on the bed. He’s completely naked, cock semi hard, and you guess Al teased him just a little bit before you arrived. Trent stares at you with large green eyes and offers a coy smile before leaning back on his elbows and gently thrusting his hips out at you.

A gesture to come closer.

You do so, and Trent reaches back only to pull out a strap-on harness with a black dildo. Before you can put it on, the little twink gets down on his knees before you, pulling down your pants and underwear. His soft lips follow his hands, and he occasionally looks up into your face, eyes shy yet clouded in lust, lips and tongue caressing the soft skin of your abdomen and moving down further to reach under.

You feel his mouth there and gasp softly, your hand reaching down to caress and tug at his dreads. Regaining control, you shove him back on the bed, getting into the strap-on while Al orders Trent to get on his hands and knees. A small whimper escapes his lips while Al runs his fingers through his dreads, giving them a sharp tug to hold his head up. You get into position in front of him, and obediently he opens his mouth.

Honestly, you can’t think of anything cuter.

Trent’s perfect lips wrap around the plastic shaft, and you moan as it rubs against you, watching him bob his head up and down on the toy, even daring to choke himself on it. The sound itself is music to your ears especially when you hear a muffled squeal out of him. You glance over Trent, eyes widening at the sight. Al is right behind him, bent over and hands spreading his cheeks. He leans forward, face to ass, and on contact, Trent breaks away from the strap-on, gasping for air and moaning whorishly. He can just feel his ass quiver and tighten around the plug that Al had placed there earlier with every lick that he gave him.

It definitely gives you quite a show from above watching Al rim Trent’s ass almost hungrily.

Before the both of you know it, Al snaps his fingers, ordering you behind him. You remove the plug, relishing Trent’s whine and the slight wiggle of his ass against the dildo. Al’s right. He’s prepped enough, ready, and you push in slowly into his needy hole, as gently as you can but still with an eager push once you’re all the way in. You’re mesmerized by the way his ass swallows the toy up like nothing, and gradually, you begin a steady rhythm of thrusts deep inside of him. Small noises erupt from his raw, red lips, but as the friction reaches further into him, those noises and grunts and whines raise in volume, even louder once he falls back against you.

Enthralled, you watch Trent rock against your ass violently, watch Al kneel in front of him to take him into his mouth, sucking avidly. As soon as he does, moving all the way down, Trent’s hips snap forward with a strangled cry, and you moan with him, placing your hands at his waist and thrusting into him at a much more rough pace.

The sound of his screams seem to tell you that you’re hitting him in just the right spot, and with another thrust and Al sucking him off, Trent throws his head back to rest against your shoulder, coming down the other man’s throat.

With your hand caressing his neck tenderly, you kiss his lips as he comes down, and Al releases him with a wet pop, soothing him as well with his lips, leaving short kisses along his stomach and chest. Your mouths meet for a kiss, a long one, and you both smile against one another, listening to Trent’s ragged breaths.

Perhaps an hour later, you roll over beside a sleeping Trent and a very much wide awake Mr. Jourgensen. Straddling his naked body with your own, you think that you could go for a round two. Al smirks and the both of you glance at Trent’s sleeping form.

What should we do with him? Let him sleep?

Al’s smirk almost seems to grow, and mischief crosses his face.

Let’s shave his head.


	84. Threesome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adding Danny into the mix...

Trent makes the first move, allowing you to be the voyeur for a moment while he tackles his bassist to the bed in a tangle of arms and legs entwining and caressing. Quite a view to be staring at his perfect ass in the air only clothed and fitted tight by one of your pairs of underwear. Goosebumps fan out over your skin and you suck in breath when you hear Danny do the same. Trent’s mouth is on him, tongue flicking out and laving up and down along the soft skin of his neck, dragging across his collarbones. You watch Danny fist the sheets and then grab Trent’s ass, yanking on the flimsy piece of clothing before tugging it down completely and squeezing at his cheeks with something of a frantic eagerness.

The first sound that erupts from his lips is a soft whine when Trent’s tongue glides its way up his throat and ending at the crest of his neck and chin. Trent hums in assent, and you swallow. Hard. That’s when the both of them sit upright, beckoning you to join them.

You obey, and your breath hitches in your throat when they pull you down with them. Danny has you straddle his waist on your hands and knees and captures your mouth with his. But it’s just a distraction. Trent, with a small smirk watching the two of you, makes his way behind you, facing your ass and dives right in. The way Trent mouths at your pussy makes you break from Danny’s lips with a small squeal, giving him access to attacking your neck with soft love bites instead. Trent chuckles and hums against your cunt, burying his face even deeper and then pulling back just to land a playful smack against your ass.

Can I taste her?

The question catches you off guard, and Danny grins up at you teasingly, pleased to see you blush. Trent places a short kiss against your hip and bites his lip, eyes glittering at the new ideas running through his head. Without hesitation, he orders you to sit on Danny’s face to which his bassist grunts in satisfaction. Head spinning from the pleasure he gave you before, you obey and get into position, moaning immediately at Danny’s mouth and tongue sucking on you avidly. The hair on his face brushing against your inner thighs is foreign to you. Nothing like Trent’s clean-shaven face. But it’s _nice._

Trent on the other hand busies himself with kneeling in between Danny’s legs, grabbing his thighs, and lowering his head down. Danny groans, muffled against you, at the feeling of Trent enveloping his cock from head to base. Trent’s eyes meet yours, and he pulls away only to wrap his lips around two of his fingers, slicking them with his spit and reaching behind. You know you want it to be your fingers inside of him, making those noises slip from his perfect, wet lips. You watch in euphoria as Trent continues to finger himself, going back down on Danny’s cock more eagerly than before, and you rock your hips a little against his bassist’s face, pleased with the grunt that escapes as he grabs your hips from below.


	85. Baby Dreads's First Blow Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First time's the charm.

After all the times he’s eaten you out (and obviously enjoyed it considering how many times he’s willingly and eagerly gone down on you), you finally decide to take control and ask him if he would like you to do anything. You are a bit confused with his sudden startled expression.

Then Trent goes red in the face and tries so hard to avert his eyes away from you.

And that’s when he explains… with quite a lot of pauses and swallowing and growing even redder… that he’s never actually… received a blowjob before. You’re shocked really. You assume Trent was more of a stud than you are, but then you offer a coy smile and gently push him down until his back hits the soft mattress against the sheets and pillows.

You love how he looks here: more shy than you are, green eyes large and watching you from below, breath coming out a bit staggered from the compromising position you have him in. He’s beautiful, and he deserves to know how beautiful he is. Everything else is secondary at the moment, and all there is is Trent’s lips locked with yours, his dreads tugged and wrapped between your fingers. He looks like a wild animal, dreads tangled in disarray, hands and arms mindlessly grabbing at you, caressing you, waiting for you to take the lead.

The sweet kiss on the forehead is the last bit of innocence you offer him before you’re lowering yourself down, down, down… hiking up his over-sized tank top with your fists, running your hands over his chest while you leave little kitten licks along his tummy, ushering a whimper from his closed lips, pressed tightly together. His chest heaves as you continue lower, and fuck, he’s already hard, fully erect and straining against his underwear- like he could release any second, come before you’ve even started.

Don’t come yet.

Frantically and with eyes squeezed shut tight, Trent nods, pressing his lips together and moaning audibly when you pull down his underwear, his fully erect cock popping out from the restraints of the fabric, the cool air hitting it and making him moan some more. Hand wrapped around the base, you lean forward and, glancing up to see his expression, envelope your lips around his head, sucking softly, flicking your tongue out teasingly at the slit. Trent shudders and grips the top of your head instantly, urging you to go further, please, further, more. You wonder if he can even handle it before he’s spilling down your throat.

You chuckle a bit, and the vibrations of the humming of your voice adds more to the sliding wet friction of your tongue. Trent keens and bucks his hips up at you, breath ragged, stuttered.

You move all the way down and hear Trent suck in a sharp breath, feeling himself down your throat, feeling that wet warmth that urges him closer to coming. You begin to bob your head up and down, grunting in satisfaction when you hear the occasional “fuck” uttered under his breath.

Please.

That please has you fondling his balls while you lick him, squeezing his shaft with your lips as you move back up to caress his head with your tongue. Trent’s trembling now, writhing against the sheets beneath your mouth, letting out a high-pitched moan, and in this moment, you adore how _feminine_ he sounds, how he needs you so much now, needs your mouth.

He breathlessly tells you he’s gonna come, oh fuck, he’s gonna come, but you don’t relent, bobbing your head up and down on his shaft with such an intensity that he’s screaming and his voice is breaking as he finally releases, hot and full down your throat. You cringe a bit at his taste but swallow every last drop, just for him as you continue to pleasure him until he’s squirming from the oversensitivity.

Are you crying?

You can’t believe it, you think as you see his scrunched up face, quickly covered by his hands in embarrassment. Muffled, he tells you no one has ever made him come that hard in his life.


	86. Passion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wants all of you.

Remember when the two of you were dancing together? Things sort of heated up. And the both of you do not make it to the bedroom in time.

Trent undresses you quickly, keeping you flush against him, his lipssmashed against yours hungrily. You breathe a sigh into his mouth, gripping his shoulders; his hands are all over you, running over your waist, reaching up to cup your breasts in his large warm hands. Then he’s quickly making his way down, and his lips trail over your throat with wet, hot, open-mouthed kisses. From there, they attack your tits with teeth and tongue, and you suck in a breath, groaning inwardly while his hands and mouth do all the work.

You run your hands through his shorter hair, smoothing his brow as he leaves short, soft kisses against your tummy and slides his hands up and down your waist and hips. He gives those kisses too until he’s kneeling beneath your gaze, eyeing you with lust-filled eyes, so dark and green. You feel his tongue between your legs, and a long, high whine escapes your parted lips. Trent’s hands grip your hips eagerly while he laves his tongue up your wet cunt, and then one hand grabs your ass while the other moves underneath. You practically squeal aloud as two fingers enter you immediately while his mouth continues to pleasure you.

Trent gets up from his kneeling position but keeps those fingers deep inside of you while he captures your mouth with his once more. You moan against him, and he hums in assent, consistently pumping them in and out of you while his thumb rubs against your clit. He removes them only to bring them to his lips to suck on them, eyes closed in silent ecstasy at your taste. Trent pulls you in close for a searing kiss so that you can taste yourself on his tongue.

You want more as you tug on his tight fitting t-shirt. He raises his arms to allow you to take it off, and your hands smooth over his muscles and his expansive chest. The pants and underwear go too, and Trent sighs when you take him into your hand. You want all of him. Inside you.

You don’t really know how the two of you managed to get on the floor, but he’s on top of you, spreading your legs, pushing himself in, slowly but with such a need. You can see it in his eyes as you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. Trent begins a series of slow yet powerful thrusts deep inside you that make you grunt and whimper with each movement you can feel. He’s so big and full inside of you; the feeling is perfect, and you rock your hips in time with his thrusts, raking your nails down his back, sure to leave red, welting marks. Trent groans.

You pull him further down just to get more of his heat and sweat mixing with yours. He smells so good. He feels so good. Trent, breathless, kisses you again, tongues mingling, teeth biting at your lower lip. He wants you as much as you do, and the hard thrust fucking deep into you tells you so.

This is how you want him. On top of you.

Pinning you down, hands gripping your wrists, holding them above your head.

Mouth loving you as if he can’t get enough of you.


	87. Mutual Masturbation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by the pool scene in the French film Swimming Pool.

You like the way the sun beats down on your skin. Winter had been long enough. It’s finally summer, and you treat yourself for a day out by the pool, lying down on one of the lawn chairs in your one piece just letting the sun bake down on you. Life with Trent has been exactly what you needed. You love him. You know that. It had been an utter rollercoaster from start to finish, but you both know that you make each other happy, and that is what matters the most to the two of you.

You breathe in a soft breath just thinking about him. Your relationship is tender and strong but passionate as well, and you find your mind wandering through the nights of rough, sweet, or even kinky sex. Passionate is an understatement. It’s wild. He hasn’t let you stop for breath since he had you, and you couldn’t ask for anything better. He shows you he loves you just by the soft, sensual kisses against your throat. The way his hands worship your body. The way his fingers and tongue find your spot, that one, the one that makes you squeal and squirm, the one that makes you so, so wet for him.

You can’t really help yourself. Your hand trails down slowly towards the growing heat between your thighs. You fantasize him a lot when he’s not there with you, and it only makes you miss him more. You can almost feel his hot breath on your neck, on your tits, and it doesn’t help how sweltering it is outside. Your hand reaches down further, massaging that spot, moaning inwardly as you writhe against the chair. The waves of pleasure form, rolling through you, causing your legs to press together against the sparks that burst.

You smirk in your little high. You know he’s standing over you, watching the way you squirm on your back. His breath is shallow. You hear it and slowly flutter your eyes opening, offering a soft, coy gaze in his direction. Trent stares down at you hungrily while running a hand through his long hair. Those green eyes are piercing, shadowed by the sun as they rake up and down your body. You feel yourself growing hotter as he continues to stare, and your fingers move at a much more frantic pace once his hand moves down into his pants. He unzips his fly, and you whine instantly.

You imagine it’s Trent’s fingers rubbing at your wet pussy through your one piece as you watch him take out his cock, pumping it in his hand slowly and grunting rhythmically. Your soft noises mix with his low growls, and eventually those whines become frantic. Trent’s hand moves faster as he stares at the way your hips and legs twitch as you come. You’re just like a kitten to him, purring contentedly beneath his gaze, and the moment you come is the moment his hand moves faster, releasing with a low groan.

It’s insanely hot the way his cum spurts all over your legs.

You can’t wait to watch him lick it up.

 


	88. Knifeplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If he was your vampire...

He makes you feel like you’re his victim.

All tied up tight, hands behind your back, ropes wrapped around your neck, chest, tits, stomach, thighs, all the way down to your ankles, wrapped up in a strange pattern you’re unsure you’ll even be able to get out of without his help. The gag is more than humiliating; just a piece of cloth leaving you cleave gagged and whining whorishly, almost desperately when he approaches.

_Shnng!_

You hear it first before you even see it. Trent smirks at how you squirm, marveling at his creation as you lie on your side. He hopes to see some sort of rope burn once he gets you out of this eventually. Grabbing a fistful of your hair so that you’re forced to stare at the ceiling, Trent drags the blade he’s holding down the soft flesh of your throat, murmuring sweet nothings, maybe soft empty threats that still shake you down to the core. Amazing how his mere breath can make you writhe and shiver once it hits your skin. You blink rapidly up into the space of the ceiling, perhaps blinking back the tears that begin to form. After all, he is tugging on your hair pretty hard. You gulp and can immediately feel the cool of the switchblade in his fist, how it’s point digs in ever so slightly into your collarbone.

You whimper.

Shut up.

It’s not his voice. It’s a growl, low, menacing. You can feel yourself getting wetter. You can’t help it. You want to hear his voice growling in your ear while he fucking breaks the skin.

You squeal a bit behind the gag. You don’t expect him to yet, but the small beads of blood that form at the valley in between your breasts is partially visible, and you groan inwardly once Trent leans forward to lap it up, sliding that smooth, wet tongue up your flesh, staining your skin temporarily with your blood. Fucker, you think when his mouth moves to tease your nipples, lingering there for a bit until he hears the sounds he wanted.

Trent grins and then with one careless flick of his wrist, pushes you over onto your back, making this even more uncomfortable for you considering the position the ropes have you in.

My little kitten all tied up tight.

With skillful fingers, he only unties your ankles and thighs just so he can spread your legs. Quite the vulnerable state he has you in, and a muffled moan breaks from your bound mouth once he slides the knife down in between your thighs. Your heart pounds even more wildly than before at how daring he is, and you give yourself away once you buck up a little against it. Trent slams his palm against your tummy to cease your movements.

Don’t want to hurt that pretty little thing, do we?

You’re completely at his mercy, and that fact nearly makes your brain explode with euphoria. Your eyes roll back into your head once you feel his hand instead of the switchblade. That hand rubbing and stroking you while the blade moves elsewhere, down your inner thigh, tickling you just a little bit.

I love watching you squirm for me, kitten.

That hand moves back up your tummy, up towards your tits, softly caressing them and then he’s on top of you, straddling your bound form and leaning down to lick at where he cut you. It stings, the feeling of his tongue, and you flinch and whine especially once that mouth moves slowly down.

Please, you think.

Trent only offers a dominant growl before laving his tongue up your swollen pussy.


	89. Threesome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two young twinks and you're in for quite a show.

It’s like watching some random gay porno where the two young twinks discover each other’s bodies for the first time, and you’re just watching from the other side of the screen.

Trent is certainly more forward than Brian is. Taking large fistfuls of his thick blonde hair into his hands, Trent gives a sharp tug, and Brian groans into his mouth as they kiss, wetly, sloppily, like they’ve never kissed before. Brian doesn’t know where to place his hands, so he places them at Trent’s hips. Trent, however, runs his hands down Brian’s chest, maybe leaving short scratches along the way.

Be gentle.

Shut. _Up._

The two of them banter back and forth like this while they continue to kiss each other as hungrily as before, and then Trent decides to be a little more daring. Taking one of Brian’s hands at his hip, he reaches down towards his half hard cock, and Brian, breaking away from Trent’s lips for a moment, watches it happen and offers a slight squeeze to his balls. Trent closes his eyes to groan softly, and then it’s Brian’s turn to be daring. One wouldn’t think someone as shy as him would even try it, but Trent gives a small cry and his eyes flutter and close, mouth parted slightly in a silent moan at the feeling of Brian’s middle finger rubbing at his tense, small little hole.

You stare at the exchange from the other side of the door open ajar, Brian stroking and caressing Trent’s shaft and balls just to get more of those small, sweet noises pouring from Trent’s lips. Trent squeezes his shoulders and leans his head back in ecstasy, allowing Brian the perfect moment to move forward and press his full lips like a viper to his throat. He’s like a vampire, sucking hard into his flesh in hopes to leave many bruising marks afterwards. More sounds escape Trent’s open mouth. You can’t help but let out a few of your own, quiet and breathy.

They hear them anyway.

Their act of forgiveness for snooping is removing every bit of your clothing while you’re pressed tight in between their bodies, feeling the heat radiate off of the both of them.

Brian wants to take Trent to which Trent blushes, the first sign of submission he’s ever shown in this moment, and perhaps that was a smirk from Brian.

Sit on my face, Trent begs you, and with the help of Brian, the both of you get him on the bed, lying on his back and ready to be violated pleasurably by the two of you. Trent rubs his hands up and down your thighs as you move yourself down, and you feel him groan against your pussy as Brian slides a slicked up finger into him. It makes you even wetter watching Trent grind his ass against him in such a needy way. As soon as Brian is finally able to gently slide his hard cock into him, Trent lets his hands fall away from your thighs to grip the sheets, and you groan as his tongue attacks your clit while he gets pounded.

Brian grunts in satisfaction and flips his long, blonde hair out of his eyes as he practically raises his lower half higher towards his groin to fuck into him deeper. You hear Trent squeal, watch his cock twitch, and it’s so tempting really. Leaning forward, you take him into your hands, pleased with the way his own hands automatically grip your hips.

You and Brian meet for a kiss while the both of you take him.

You’re actually glad that you caught them.


	90. NIN Gangbang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trent can share.

Trent’s clothed erection is all you can feel between your thighs as you straddle his waist, and you rock gently just to get a little friction to your already wet, throbbing pussy. He can feel your warmth and offers a smirk before leaning in close for a searing kiss.

You feel eyes on you. It’s to be expected. You agreed to this; in fact, you wanted it just because your curiosity was getting the better of you in the last few days. Trent had mentioned something pertaining to what the both of you wanted. You literally asked him, though red in the face how he would feel if the entire band could fuck you, including him, and you couldn’t believe it when he immediately agreed. They would be in control, but Trent would make sure not to forget your limits.

Don’t be afraid to rough her up a bit if she wants you to, Trent explains to the rest of the men watching you intensely. Chris and Danny share looks, and James’s expression is unreadable, though his eyes are on you, piercing through your flesh. You’re the only one completely naked in the room after all. You can’t help if a rosy blush fans out over every inch of your body. Robin smiles at you softly. It seems he is the only one besides Trent who knows just how nervous you really are. Doesn’t mean you’re backing out though. No. You want this so much.

But if any of you so much as hit her without her consent, I’ll make each of your lives miserable.

You kiss Trent again, pleased to know you have a boyfriend whose first priority is to protect you.

Take whichever part of her you want, but remember. Trent takes your chin into his hand and looks you dead in the eye.

That cute little cunt of hers is mine.

You almost giggle at him, and then he’s waving his hand carelessly at the rest of his band, allowing them to start and your heart thumps once, so loud you can hear it in your ears. Chris approaches you first and orders you down on your knees to which you instantly obey as he whips his already hard cock out. You open your mouth obediently, and teasingly he slaps it against your tongue before shoving it in, making you choke. Beside you, you feel Danny grab your hand to wrap around his shaft, and eagerly you stroke him down while Chris continues to lazily thrust in and out of your mouth.

“And I thought you were good at multitasking, Reznor.”

Trent simply smirks and then leans forward to watch the rest of the show, in complete awe of you. James claims his turn while Chris and Danny step back, rubbing at their own cocks, already close it seems. As he gets in front, Robin suddenly comes in from behind, offering a sweet yet heated kiss to the side of your face. Cupping your breasts with his large hands, Robin makes way for James to get on his knees, straddling your groin, cock immediately out of his pants. Easily, he slides himself between your tits, fucking himself in and out at your chest with something of a growl. Robin merely purrs in your ear as he watches, and you moan.

One finger is already slick with lube, and you gasp feeling Robin rub the entrance between your cheeks in small circles. You remember Trent’s words: only he gets your pussy, so Robin decided to take your ass. You gulp and lean your head back once he slowly slides that finger inside, up to the hilt. To comfort you, Robin offers hot kisses to your throat and begins to gently fuck your hole, pulling away to apply more lube and then going back in with two fingers this time.

Trent moves James out of the way and instantly moves in between your legs on his stomach, blowing a breath over your swollen pussy. You squeal, feeling his mouth on you, and Robin takes that as his chance to slick up his cock and slowly push in. It feels strange and unfamiliar being stretched there, but Robin makes sure not to viciously pound into you.

Trent mouths at your pussy, commenting on how wet you are, and then he’s frantically unzipping his jeans and guiding his way into you, stretching you out even further. You whine loudly, enjoying the way Trent’s hips snap into you and Robin bucking up into you from behind. You hear the rest of the bandmates crowd around you, busily pumping up and down on their hard dicks until they’re spraying all over you.

Gently, Robin pulls out of you, and Trent eventually does the same, being the last to come, deep inside you. They leave you lying on the floor soaked in cum, everyone that is except Trent. They watch him clean you up and wrap you in a towel, muttering a few “thank you, beautiful”’s while they all tuck themselves back into their pants.

Like it, kitten?

You smile when Trent kisses your cheek. You definitely need a shower though, and he can’t deny you that.

 


	91. Double Penetration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trent can take whatever you throw at him.

Imagine Trent lets you actually take charge for once, indulging you in his rather secret kink. He wants you to fuck him, hard while he lays there on his stomach, waiting for you, quivering, whining, losing patience. His mouth is so nice and wet and warm when he wraps his lips around your finger. His ass feels much warmer.

Soft.

Trembling.

You want to hear that sound he makes once you push in as slowly and gently as you can. The one where his mouth hangs open in ecstasy and shock. Shock at the unfamiliar yet pleasurably painful sensation you offer him. More lube and two fingers go in. Then three. Goddamit, you managed to crook and slide your little finger in there, watching in awe, loving the way his ass swallows you up greedily. They brush and curl over a sensitive area that makes him cry out in surprise and then bliss.

He calls you ‘mommy’ once he sees you in that double penetration strap on, and you heavily coat the toy with so much lube before spitting at his hole, down his crack. You watch his hands fist the sheets, watch him rock back against the strap on as you gradually guide yourself in. It amazes you how he can manage to take both knots, slowly yet surely, desperate to please you, moaning for more, moaning and begging for you to fill him up.


	92. Bad Whore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank him each time.

You’re in big trouble this time.

You swear you’ve never seen Trent this angry before, and quite honestly, you’ve never felt more frightened in all the days you’ve been alive. If Trent growls like that one more time, you swear you will get down on your knees and beg for your life.

But it’s not just that he’s angry with you; he’s disappointed. You let him down. You deliberately disobeyed him all because you couldn’t follow the simplest of orders.

No, you horny slut. You just couldn’t listen. It seems you like this. You want pain. You want me to punish you. You want me to be rough, treat you like a piece of shit because you’re just so masochistic, aren’t you?

You almost cringe at his words, and you bite your lower lip anxiously when, with a loud smack of the crop against his palm, Trent orders you to get on the bed, on your back, legs up so that your ass is exposed and ready. You obey instantly without so much as a whimper for fear of incurring more of his wrath. You hold them at your ankles, already wiggling at the uncomfortable position.

I’m going to make this so difficult for you.

Trent muses over whether or not he should use something harder, harder than even a cane or a paddle. His fucking belt perhaps but even that wasn’t hard enough.

You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you filthy, disobedient whore? You want me to indulge in what would make you feel good. Make you come. I can see right through you.

You pout and stiffen just a bit upon feeling the crop tap your inner thigh lightly. He wants you to spread your legs even wider, and even that should make this position much more uncomfortable. Painful even. Trent wants you to feel it in your ass the next day. His rage will leave a mark. You may just think twice before disobeying him again. You whimper and whine softly, feeling the crop again this time on the other side, tapping gently before rubbing the edge of it over your smooth skin, teasing you just a little bit. He wants to rile you up, keep you on the edge, writhing, shaking for more, just begging to come.

Bad whores don’t get rewards.

The crop comes down on both your thighs, sharply, making you cry out at the sudden sting. Trent does it again, raising the crop high over his head before bringing it down hard on your thighs, calves, ass, anywhere soft and tender, anywhere that will feel the most pain. He does it again repeatedly, occasionally landing the crop smartly against that cunt he just loves to abuse and chuckling at your squeals and squirms.

Count.

Shakily, you begin at one. You hadn’t been counting when he started so abruptly.

Thank me for your punishment, whore. Tell me that you’re such a bad whore.

You’re a bad whore. A bad, bad whore.

Hopefully that’ll make him reconsider punishing you so hard. Maybe give you a second chance?

The crop comes down hard on your cunt and leaves stinging slaps against your thighs and ass. Maybe not.


	93. Piss Kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're his dirty whore.

Of course Trent is more than willing to indulge in your rather eccentric kinks. He adores how red your face becomes once you tell him, and he promises to make it worth your while.

Worth your while is an understatement. Especially when you are down on your hands and knees on the tiled floor of your bathroom, completely naked, waiting for him to just do it.

He’s so full for you, he murmurs, mostly to himself, and you almost fucking mewl once you hear that distinct noise of Trent unzipping his pants. One large hand reaches down to stroke you, and a soft gasp breaks from his lips when he realizes just how wet you really are. You must really want this. He chuckles and pulls out his cock.

You feel it as soon as it hits, but he’s teasing you. The stream of piss is short; it hits your back quickly, just little droplets, and you almost want him to stop teasing you and just give you what you want once you hear that low chuckle again. Quite amused with himself, isn’t he? Enjoying himself just a little too much. To urge Trent on, you push your butt out a little higher, perhaps to tease him, and he watches you, eyes lidded, a small groan escaping his smirking lips. Do that again, he fucking dares you, and another stream of his warm piss hits your back, this time more, running down along your spine.

He loves the way it looks on you.

More comes, warm, making you even wetter, especially when it slowly slides down your crack. You whimper, and that sound alone tells him you want it all, you want him to empty himself all over you. Please.

Trent is more than happy to oblige, muttering how much of a slut you are for this. A dirty filthy slut. Dirty, dirty, dirty.

Trent throws his head back in something like ecstasy as he relieves himself all over you, and you moan louder once you feel your soaked hair sticking to your back. The trickling noise stops, and you begin to whine, but not before his hand is in your hair, telling you to shut up. That’s all he has left for you. Enjoy it. Filthy whore. You pout behind a slow, cunning smirk and crawl towards him, like a fucking animal, he thinks.

He didn’t piss your mouth, you whine. Taking his length into your hands, you give the tip just a short, little kitten lick. Trent’s cock jerks voluntarily, and you giggle.

Gross. Take a shower, whore. I’m not fucking you like this.


	94. Whoops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You just. Let it slip.

Trent does not enjoy shopping. At all. Especially grocery shopping. He would very much rather be cooped up in his recording studio, fuming over a track than dealing with the bare essentials to survival, but when it’s with you, it’s worth it somehow.

You make him take the cart, and to be honest, it is quite adorable watching him wheel the thing around, or at least to, muttering a few curses under his breath. Of course this cart had to have a defective wheel; every time he tries to push it to the right, it swerves to the left. You cannot help but giggle watching him blink once and mutter more strings of four letter words under his breath. You take the cart from him gently, instructing him to go grab the rest of the items on the list.

Thank you, Daddy, you whisper to him as he dutifully obeys and the look he gives you warns you not to try that again.

Check out is procedural- or at least it would be if the both of you didn’t have such a lousy, rude cashier. You watch Trent blink rapidly in his own irritation at the attitude he is being given, and tenderly, you rub his muscled arm to calm him down before you return your attention back to the bagged groceries. You know he just wants to get out of there, forget the real world for a second, and spend time with you.

Ready to go?

You glance at him with a smile. Trent looks utterly relieved that the two of you are finally done and can return to the comforts of your home.

Yes, Daddy.

Your head snaps forward in his direction as soon as you uttered it, and you watch his eyes widen in disbelief because he definitely heard you say it. For a moment, you can’t really speak, face reddening in complete and total embarrassment and you almost forget how _he_ feels for a second.

Trent is the first to calm down though, and, ignoring the quiet sneer from the cashier, approaches you taking you by the arm as the both of you get the hell out of there. His grip tightens, and his dominant side appears as he pulls you in close, breath hot against your ear.

Oh, you are definitely getting punished once we get home.

 


	95. Priest Kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you confess your sins, he'll give you penance.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been only a day since my last confession.

Father Reznor gives a calm, calculating smirk from behind the screen and lets out a deep sigh. Your sin, he remarks, is great, but your contrition has proved even greater. You can barely hold back a hopeful smile when he asks if you are ready to receive your penance.

I am, Father.

First, tell me your sins.

You have been more than sinful, you attempt to explain. Obscene. Every thought running through your head filled with lust. Dirty thoughts. Thoughts about Father Reznor sitting before you behind the screen. Perhaps you inch closer, slide the screen out of the way, just so you can see his face, watch his reaction from a poised, prudent position in his seat to one of utter interest, leaning forward, staring at you with such an intensity your heart throbs just a bit. You wish you could go into great deal. How you want him to take you, hard and rough, right there in the confessional, make you scream, just loud enough for the other members of the church to hear you.

Father Reznor replies with nothing more than a nonchalant grunt and waits for you to continue.

All your sins, you remind yourself. Everything. Nothing left out.

You touch yourself when you think of him. How wet you get when you imagine his large, warm hands roaming your shivering body. How his fingers find their way into you, exploring you, figuring out just what it is that can turn you into an utter moaning mess. You long to take his big, thick cock into your mouth. You want your mouth to stretch around his shaft, your tongue to taste him, make him weak just for you. You come so hard when you think of those very hands tugging on your hair in large fistfuls and tugging hard when you take him in deeper, perhaps in attempts to choke yourself on his throbbing member.

Father Reznor listens to everything you confess, looking thoughtful for a moment. His expression before has been unreadable until now. Then he stands, his movements soft, almost graceful, his black clothing swishing quietly as he moves.

You hear the zipper coming undone before you glance up to watch him do it, and your mouth practically waters.

Well now, my child.

You are on your knees before he even orders it.

Take your penance.


	96. Professor Reznor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> College sure is work.

“Y/N, that is the third time I’ve caught you talking during a test, so I’m going to have to assume that you are cheating. Please approach my desk with your test and leave it there. I’d like you to stay after class once the bell rings.”

You feel your stomach turn in irritation and suppress rolling your eyes as you come up to the front of the classroom with your paper. Stupid Mister Reznor. Stupid fucking class. You can feel all eyes on you. You hate the way he deliberately embarrasses you everyday. It’s almost as if he relishes making you blush. Perhaps you were talking too much and perhaps you do have a little, tiny problem with authority, but one thing is for certain: you fucking hate your professor, Mister Reznor.

Just your luck too because the bell rings only ten minutes later, and you slump further down in your seat. Every student files out, and you are left with him, him and his stern gaze, his and his stupid, gorgeous, perfect hair. No wait. It’s not perfect. He is so _not_ perfect.

“I’d like to talk with you only for a moment, Y/N.”

His voice is much softer now, not as husky and nasally as before but filled with honey. Sweet. You’d like to hear that voice begging you, like to see him on his hands and knees.

“Y/N. My desk. _Now._ ”

But that voice makes you shiver. You want to be bad just to hear that voice growling in your ear. Dominant. You obey, maybe with a little smirk, looking him dead in the eye defiantly.

“Is this what you want? You want your punishment again?”

You fucking hate him. So fucking much. Of course you want his hands on you. Of course you want to feel his fingers yanking your panties down, his palms splayed out over your ass cheeks, hands coming down on your hard, leaving a mark. You bend over the edge of his desk, sticking your ass out and wiggling it just a little, trying to tease him. It works. You hear the ruler sliding out of the drawer, hear him tapping it lightly against his palm before he does exactly what you imagined. After tugging your panties down and hiking your skirt up, exposing your ass, Professor Reznor brings the ruler down harsh against your soft, sensitive skin.

Once he hears that one squeal erupt from your mouth, he pauses and then strikes you repeatedly, the blows sharp and short but leaving a definite sting, making you moan and whine in pain but desperately begging for more.

“Such a fucking slut...”

One hand against the small of your back holds you down, keeping you from rutting back against the ruler and yet earning more smacks in return.

“Fuck, I wish I could just hatefuck you on my desk right now.” Professor Reznor offers more hits with his ruler as he groans, thinking about the idea alone. It’s not long before your cheeks are a deep shade of pink, warm and swollen.

Too bad the next class starts in three minutes.


	97. THE DIRTIEST IMAGINE I COULD EVER COME UP WITH

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He likes being your slave and more.

Trent cringes underneath you, squeezes his eyes shut, and arches his back; a beautiful display for you, watching him struggle to not come just yet, hearing him sob brokenly, muffled against the bit in his mouth. He’s like your very own pony, broken, tied, and ready to ride. How pathetic. How humiliating. And here he is just begging to come already.

You grind your sexes a little harder just so he can writhe some more against the friction, and you moan loudly, throwing your head back with a sigh. A short whimper escapes his cleave-gagged lips, voice cracking at the overwhelming pleasure you offer him. One slap from your riding crop against his thigh, and he goes dead silent, maybe going cross-eyed a little, eyes rolling back in his head as you rock a little harder against him.

Don’t _fucking_ come.

Even when you threaten him, Trent still manages to get a rise out of every little whisper in his ear. Perhaps it’s the switchblade you grab and press against his shaft, making his cock twitch. That blade moves slowly down while you threaten to cut his balls off if he even starts leaking. Trent whines, stammering something incoherently that makes you giggle in amusement. Of course you wouldn’t really… would you? Maybe the shaft first, so that he remains furiously and painfully aroused. Oh the _sounds_ he’d make. Maybe make him taste his own blood, choke on his own limp shaft.

You just barely remember the trembling, writhing man beneath you, and it snaps you back to reality, giving you plenty of other ideas to pass the time. You get off of him and move in position between his spread thighs. What a good boy. Hoisting his ass a little higher to your level, you carefully prod his hole, _as gently as you can_ with the tip of the switchblade. Trent squeals against the bit, and marveled, you watch open-mouthed as his ass clenches automatically. Putting the switchblade away, you get down on your stomach, wrap your arms around his legs, and lave your tongue up his hole. Trent’s hands tied behind him tighten into fists, and he moans audibly, urging you on. You offer little kitten licks to his ass, stroking the rim of it with your tongue. Trent gives a small squeak once he feels your spit hit his hole and run down his crack, and you lap that up as well.

He had loosened himself up for you before you started- such a good whore. Nothing was easier than sliding into him, black strap-on and all. And the high moans and soft noises he gives only make you wetter. Leaning down and resting his legs against your shoulders, you remove the bit and hiss one direct order.

Call me mommy.

Nothing could be hotter than Trent Reznor, completely and utterly wrecked and thoroughly fucked, calling you ‘mommy’.

Mommy… Please fuck me, mommy…

You fuck into him so deep, he screams, and you sigh in satisfaction. He’s like a slave, so docile, so obedient, so pathetic. But there he goes, begging to come again. Slut.

Pulling out and relishing his whine of protest and disappointment, you tell him to make you come first. Sitting on his face wasn’t really what he had in mind, but he gives an appreciative hum beneath you that vibrates along your cunt, making you purr. That one lick at your ass is nearly enough to send you over the edge, and you grab at him frantically, almost vocally begging him to do that again. Trent does and then moves back to worshipping your pussy with his tongue, because that’s what slaves like him were meant to do.

When you slide down on his thick, full cock, Trent practically keens and stutters in the indescribable pleasure your wet warmth brings him. You ride him vigorously, occasionally smacking him with the crop, and maybe reaching behind to finger his abused hole. Tease him over the edge. Make him come and then punish him for it. Make him pay dearly for it.

Sure enough, Trent comes. Hard. Spilling deep inside you, so much. Too much. It’s almost as if he explodes inside you, his seed running down your thighs. He sobs through it; the pleasure is overwhelming, and you get off of him immediately to wrap your hands around his quivering cock. Trent begins to twitch and groan while you rub him down mercilessly through his refractory period, and he nearly screams at the overstimulation.

You milk him through it, giving a soft gasp as more of his cum spills out in small spurts over his chest and tummy. How pleasant to watch his chest heave in his exertion. How pleasant to feel him lapping at his cum inside your pussy. You whine whorishly at the feel of his tongue sucking on you and then mention something about how his “punishment for coming too early is no where near over”.

Piss on me, mommy.

He understands, and just the sight of Trent lying there, tied down, debauched, and desperate for you to relieve yourself all over him makes you let go immediately, your piss running down his chest, his stomach, all the way down to his still quivering cock. Trent bucks up to receive more, but you hold him down with one hand, and with two fingers in your free hand, you rub them in your piss on his chest and push them past his lips, making him suck your fingers clean.

Stroking his sweat-soaked hair, you bend down for a kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue.

Stupid, precious whore. Perhaps next time you’ll be more accommodating for mommy?


	98. Leash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walk, doggy.

Time to put your collar to good use.

You practically purr like a kitten lying on the bed while Trent rubs your tummy, uttering out a small whimper as his hand slides between your thighs. With two fingers, he slips them beneath your collar and tugs you forward in one fluid motion, pulling your face in close for a sultry, tongue-filled kiss.

Click goes the leash and with a soft tug, Trent drags you forward, on your hands and knees, helping you down from the bed. You can feel his eyes on your ass, like red hot coals burning into your skin. The yank that pulls your neck to the side tells you you are moving too slow, and you whine aloud as you move into a crawl, groveling after him in the most degrading, humiliating way possible. And he’s determined to make you feel it.

Trent sits down in a lone chair moments later, tugging on the leash sharply with a look that demands you get closer before he loses his patience. He watches you crawl obediently towards him, watches you with hungry eyes as you sit back on your knees, staring up at him docilely, the lust in your eyes evident but overshadowed by innocence, obedience, like you have no idea what exactly Trent Reznor has in mind for you. A deep growl makes you lower your head.

You’ll look at him when you have permission to.

The light yank of the leash tells you you can, and all of a sudden, the toe of his boot is patting your cheek and the tension of the leash is bringing you down, lower than a kneel until your nose and lips brush against that sleek leather.

Lick my boots.

Another order, more like another growl really, and slowly, your tongue glides its way up his boot, moving along his calf and leaving a wet streak along the way. Trent groans in satisfaction and tightens his grip on the leash, and fuck, half of you wishes it’s a fistful of your hair.

Another yank, and Trent hoists you up, gripping your hair with one fist as you wished, offering a heated kiss, dragging his teeth across your lower lip, instilling his dominance.

Kiss it, he mutters, pushing your head down.


	99. Sexual Torture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a couple of fuckholes for him to come in.

Say it again.

The tears come freely this time, spilling one right after the other after they had threatened to do so through the ordeal of holding them back against every degrading insult and blow. There will be thin red welts all along your body once you’re finished. And they will sting. You hardly wonder if you’ll be able to sleep on your back or your front.

Trent catches your chin with a steel grip and growls his order again, for the thousandth time really.

Say it, you filthy whore.

I’m a cumslut.

You never thought you could say it without your words breaking and stuttering all over the place, but your voice shakes all the same, your lower lip quivers, and your entire worn body tremble where you sit, tied to the chair. Earlier, it had been on the bed where Trent flogged you mercilessly for every sound you made. You couldn’t help it, you had screamed, and there came another and another and another until Trent grew bored and decided on something else, muttering over and over again on how useless you are.

Again.

I’m a cumslut.

I don’t think you believe it yet.

The sharp yank in your hair makes you scream desperately. You do believe! You do! You’re just a useless cumslut.

A what?

A cumslut…

Trent sneers and his voice reduces to a deep growl when he continues to taunt you viciously.

Just a couple of holes for me to come in? Is that it? The slap across your face makes you jump. You don’t expect it, and the tears continue to flow. Answer me when I ask you something, slut.

Yes.

Yes what? The question sounds more like a disinterested statement than out of inquiry.

Yes, Master.

That’s right. Maybe I should just call you ‘fuckhole’ from now on seen as how that’s all you really are to me. Another slap leaves your soft cheek stinging, and then his free hand is moving down, down towards that throbbing spot between your thighs.

Ah, so this is what you wanted.

You shake your head to humor him. Play along.

Oh yes it is. Fuck, so wet. I hear you moaning for me, you little cunt.

Trent’s thumb drags along your clit, the friction of him rubbing you raw making you keen in the pleasure he gives you. He slaps your thigh for being too loud.

Shut the fuck up.

Please, you sob.

Crying now are we? Pathetic. You’re pathetic.

You whimper and beg some more, and that’s when Trent brings out the one gag you hate the most, a combination of of a ball gag and something to cover your mouth. You hate it and writhe, fighting him before he finally shoves it in your mouth with a curse. Another thing you don’t expect is his saliva running down your cheek.

Disobedient little bitch.

You hear the snap of those latex gloves sliding on and into place and almost whine. You can’t get to feel his own fingers, his own hands touching you. No, he’s depriving you of this intimate contact. It’s what you deserve, he tells you with a smirk, eyes glittering. The soft buzz of the hitachi reaches your ears as well, and you gulp, choking on your own saliva and a little bit of the gag as you feel it right against your cunt, remaining there mercilessly until you finally come, without his permission, unable to take much more of the agonizing wait.

Trent clicks his tongue and holds it there even after you’ve orgasmed, ignoring your incoherent pleas for no more, too much, it’s too much. You beg but know he can’t understand you much less want to stop. Another wave of pleasure washes over you, making you twitch and buck against him, but his hand on your tummy holds you down and so does the hitachi.

Perhaps another.

You glance at Trent with wide eyes. Seems he can go all day, watching you writhe and tremble with every bit of pain and pleasure he offers you. After the fifth time you come, sweaty, drained, eyes bleary, Trent finally pulls away, turns off the toy, and runs his fingers through your mess, occasionally giving your cunt a few sharp and equally painful slaps. He licks his fingers clean, humming in approval and muttering to himself. He wants another taste.

Those two fingers shove deep into your cunt, and your eyes roll back into your head.

Perhaps another five times.

 


	100. Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simply perfect.

Imagine Trent running his hands through your hair. It doesn’t matter the situation you are in. Just use your imagination. Those hands lightly pull, but he remains gentle. Perhaps his hands move down your back, clutching your hips, rubbing soft circles into them.

You make him drunk.

So head over heels in love with you.

Those hands move back up to your hair, grabbing it in large fistfuls, almost urgent, definitely in eagerness. His soft, perfect lips capture yours in a warm embrace as breaths mingle. His mouth trails down your neck, voice whispering, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear.

So beautiful.

So perfect for me.

Mine. All mine.

Imagine the tingles that trail down your spine, the restless shivers. Only his voice can do that. And it feels so good to hear him whisper such praises into your ear, breath tickling it, hair tickling your neck.

He doesn’t deserve you.

Lips caress your throat, and hands grip your arms, moving from there to your waist squeezing gently. You’re lost in this. Lost in his words. Lost in the way your breaths become heavier with each kiss, each word of praise.

Imagine hearing the word ‘perfect’ fall from his lips.


	101. Desperate Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can't live without you.

It’s been too long. Way too long. Months, nearly a year since you had seen him last. At that time, he wasn’t himself. He was different, darker, sadder, someone void of hope or determination like he once had. Now, there’s a change in him; you see it all too clear when he walks through that door, eyes you up and down as if he can’t believe his own eyes. Those pure green eyes no longer hold a desperation and sadness. Instead they seem older, a little weary, but they light up as soon as they behold the sight of you.

You can’t believe what you’re seeing and part of you wants to rub your eyes, worrying that he’ll be gone once you pull away. Not a word is said between the two of you. Mouths are dry, can’t talk, don’t know what to say really. His lips turn up in a soft smile, that same smile he gave you when you first met him. Your own quivers just a little. It’s quite a shock. You have a hard time believing it. Maybe he’s not real. Maybe it’s just a dream.

His lips against yours, smashed to your mouth prove you wrong. Trent is real; he’s so very real and warm and soft to the touch. You notice that hardness in his eyes is still evident but fainter somehow. Like he’s wiser more now than he’s ever been. Like he’s changed for the better and he’s done it all himself, woken up, watched the sun rise, and decided to start brand new. There’s something different about the way he touches you, holds you, grabs you. It’s stronger; he’s more sure of himself, but he’s desperate for you. Those soft, perfect lips mold to yours and those warm hands explore you as if for the first time, roaming across your back, running through your hair. You melt into his touch, aware of just how much you missed him, how much he’s missed you.

Soon enough, your clothes are lying on the floor with his. It’s as though you’re a feral cat, clawing at his shirt and pants before running your hands over his smooth skin, aching for any form of contact. Your lips meet again, hungrier this time and you swear you never felt more ecstatic, losing all sense of reason except for what’s right in front of you, who’s right in front of you, grabbing at you like he could crush you with his embrace instead of ever letting you go again. You want those arms holding you tight, those piano fingers caressing your skin, stroking you softly just to get you to purr, exploring inside of you to make you scream.

Right here. That’s the only place you’d rather be right now. In his lap. Legs wrapped around his waist. Feeling him fill you up. Utter perfection. And when he fucks into you so suddenly, you know exactly how much he’s been longing to feel you again, to fuck you, to kiss you, to love you. He’s no longer fragile; you know that for certain.

You are sure of it than anything else.


	102. Brat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone needs to teach this fucking brat a lesson.

You love this brat so much, love the way he practically screams when you pound into him, love the way his ass swallows up your hard cock hungrily. He’d prepped himself so good for you. That tight little ass feels so good around your length, and you moan automatically once you feel him clench.

Little bitch tightening himself up. What a masochist.

He smirks up at you from below, on his back, right where he should be, moaning and mewling and taking your cock perfectly. You spread his legs just a little wider and thrust into him once just to get him to really feel, just to get him to scream like the whore he is. Trent does scream, loud and high pitched but ending in a low growl, murmuring at how good it feels, so, so damn good. He takes your face in his hands while you fuck him and pulls you in for a searing, wet, sloppy kiss, filled with his hums of pleasure and satisfaction. His tongue slides into your mouth easily, and while that catches you off guard, Trent takes his chance to regain dominance, flipping you over on your back, palms pressed into your chest.

You fuck up into him once, watching him readjust himself as he straddles you. Slowly, he sinks back down on your throbbing cock, face full of lust, eyes heavily-lidded, wet mouth open while he pants. Just like a fucking dog in heat. You groan in the sight of him starting to ride you. Trent begins a steady rhythm of grinding against your cock and hips and grins triumphantly, knowing full well he has you right where he wants you.

Fuck into this ass, baby.

God, you fucking love it when the bitch talks dirty.

Don’t you just wanna come deep inside me? Come right in this tight little asshole?

If he fucking bites his goddamn lower lip one more time, you swear you’re going to do something about it.

That nasally laughter and that husky voice makes you want to come right then and there. Or perhaps flip him over, pin him to the edge of the bed, and spank the living shit out of him for being such a whoring brat.

Mm… I don’t know. Maybe I should stop. Maybe I’m just not feeling it today.

Oh no he doesn’t… You turn the tables immediately, grabbing him around his waist and pinning him down, hands above his head, fucking into him almost viciously. Little slut, you murmur in his ear and grin yourself when you hear him chuckle softly before whimpering loudly as you pound into that spot. His whimpers become ravenous pleas; he’s not begging because he wants it that much. He’s begging because he doesn’t think you can give it to him. Oh, you’ll fucking prove the little whore wrong, and fuck into him a little harder.

Make me bleed.

Fucking masochist. Everything about fucking Trent is wild, maybe even a little scary, but that’s just why you love it so much. You pull him onto your lap and practically slap his ass down on your leaking cock, maybe thinking you can use him as a human fleshlight, one that makes such sweet, cute little noises when you fuck it. Trent presses his lips together and squeezes his eyes shut, moaning loudly for more until he feels you come deep inside with a grunt and a groan.

Trent gasps and slows the rocking of his hips against you, dragging your orgasm out, soothing you through your high. You pull him off and get up with a couple of back flexes and stretches before approaching the bathroom door.

Aren’t you going to finish me off?

You click your tongue when you face him with a cheeky grin.

Stupid whore, you chastise him teasingly. Brats like you don’t get off.


	103. Naval Worship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He loves every bit of you.

Trent’s lips are featherlight when he kisses your tummy. It sends shivers down your spine and makes you shudder when he does it again. It is one of his favorite places to kiss you and you don’t mind it at all. The gesture is loving, maybe a bit sensual; you know what he wants and you want it just the same, maybe a little more. You can feel the goosebumps rise on your skin when his perfect lips brush the skin of your belly. Perhaps he groans and hums audibly while kissing you there. Just feeling your smooth skin against his mouth fills him with ecstasy; he just cannot seem to get enough of you.

Those kisses happen to grow more hungry and sultry as he moves further down. You watch with your mouth open slightly at his ministrations, watch your chest rise and fall, eventually getting faster in speed, watch your tummy stutter with each open-mouthed kiss that adds just a bit of tongue into the mix, just to get you to squirm. Your eyes flutter shut, and you moan gently at the pleasant feel of his soft, warm lips. This is heaven. Heaven in his bed. You stretch and raise your arms above your head, breath hitching in your throat when his lips and teeth pull at the flesh around your naval.

He’s decided to grow just a little more daring tonight, and you hum contentedly when that tongue laves its way up your bellybutton, tickling you just a little. Breath as light as the fur of a kitten, you murmur his name under your breath and raise your hips, granting him more access to your tummy. That tongue leaves little kitten licks around your naval before sucking at the skin mercilessly, leaving your flesh red and mottled with love marks of his own. He loves marking you up. Proves you’re his. You groan a little more at this, especially once Trent’s tongue, warm and wet dips gently into your naval. Those lips and tongue drag seductively down your belly and his hands, which had remained at your hips and sides until now, move along with them, dipping thumbs into the waistband of your damp underwear and slowly removing it, the anticipation killing you and drawing a needy whine from your lips.

Just what he wanted to hear.


	104. It Will Definitely Last Longer

Sometimes Trent likes to get out his sleek, polaroid camera and take a few photos of you. He can make you look so innocent, so angelic, and as a perfectionist, he chooses the outfit (or spends hours choosing one that best represents the scene he wants you in), getting you to make so many facial expressions and directing you into so many positions, reclining, lying down, simply standing, making you seem as peaceful as possible. As an artist, he knows how to make subtle undertones towards hidden meanings in his photography whether it be the way you smile but the way your eyes look behind that smile, the way your hair billows in the wind, or how the sun catches its highlights.

Trent shows most of them to you but keeps others for himself, those others where you aren’t exactly as innocent as you seem. Trent strips all of that away once it’s just the two of you, photos full of you in compromising positions, perhaps sweat-soaked or bound securely and skillfully in ropes, making you look as vulnerable as possible. He loves the way your face looks in them, so full of desperation and lust. Perhaps your lips are tethered by a gag, drool running down your chin while Trent’s hand rests over your body before he takes the snapshot. Sometimes your mouth is free and parted wetly, just so that the camera can catch the glimpse of Trent’s cum running from your tongue and sliding down your neck. His hand will make its way into the photo to thumb a bit of it away from your lower lip and chin.

These photos. These are the ones you enjoy helping him take the most. Photos of him subtly in the background with just his hands grabbing at you and his arms wrapped around you possessively. Photos that make you blush and make him grin cheekily before snapping another.


	105. Groupie Sex

You moan and you can’t help it really. Trent has you pinned on your back on the couch, hands on your tits while he straddles your waist, making certain you aren’t going _anywhere._ It’s every groupie’s wet dream to get fucked by the one and only Trent Reznor, frontman and genius behind the band Nine Inch Nails. You just hadn’t expected it to be in front of every single one of his bandmates.

Trent eyes you, almost panting like a dog in heat and runs two fingers down your pussy, making you squeal just a little, just the way he likes it, and he stops only to turn his attention to his band as if to put you on display. This is her. This is that cute little slut just begging to get backstage. To you, he grins wryly.

Oh honey, you got the real deal.

She a virgin?

You feel your face redden when you hear that question come out of one of their mouths. Of course you aren’t, but even if you were, you didn’t think you’d want Trent to stop there. The humiliation of it all is thrilling and you blush some more, gazing back up into Trent’s blazing green eyes. He clicks his tongue and affirms that you aren’t. You practically shoved his fingers up there just to prove to him he wasn’t taking something on a sex-crazed whim. Isn’t that right, angel? Two fingers enter you instantly, and you whine at the stretch, the whine becoming a shriek once he thrusts himself into you entirely, growling at the pleasing sensation of your tight, wet heat engulfing his throbbing cock.

The rest of them look on in awe of the scene before them. Each of them rub themselves while Trent begins pounding into you in a wild frenzy, almost as if he wanted to have you all screamed out once he finished. You moan and scream his name, making attempts to wrap your arms around his neck, but he forces your hands away, pinning them above your head as he fucks into you some more, grunting and muttering obscene encouragement for you to come early as he does so. Once you do, you feel the splatter of cum against your face and tits and anywhere else on your body. The rest of the bandmates had worked themselves up to this point and ended up letting go all over you.

You hadn’t expected the overstimulation of Trent pounding into you with the feeling of his band’s cum drying all over your exposed body, but it was everything you ever imagined and more.

I love groupies, Danny moans as he tucks himself away.

Trent chuckles once he pulls out and finishes all over your sore cunt.

 I think she’s a keeper.


	106. Voyeurism

You’ve always enjoyed voyeurism, and Trent makes it his duty to let that niche happen, being the caring, sensitive boyfriend that he is.

It doesn’t really matter what you are doing as long as there is somebody in the room to watch. Perhaps it makes you seem slutty. You don’t care, and you quite like when Trent calls you his little slut in the bedroom. It is simply fun because you are _allowing_ them to do this, _allowing_ them to watch you because either way without your consent Trent would never, ever allow that to fucking happen. But since it’s you, he smiles, he’ll make an exception. Just remember you’re his and only his. He cares about you that much before he lets another man or woman look at you and perhaps have their way with you.

Trent brought in a young man in probably his mid twenties this time, someone you have never seen before. Quite frankly he terrifies you, his appearance, but you can’t help but shiver in anticipation. His presence is interesting to you really, and he’s wildly beautiful with full lips, high cheekbones, and long jet black hair that falls past his shoulders. Not to mention he’s shirtless. Trent had mentioned that he enjoys being that way around the studio, sometimes even naked. You gulp, observing his many strange and terrifying tattoos. This guy certainly doesn’t give a fuck.

His name is Brian, he introduces himself, but you can call him Manson. Only Trent is allowed to call him by his birth name. Manson. Odd enough, but you nod obediently, and Trent pats your cheek in reassurance, murmuring a ‘good girl’ under his breath.

He wants to watch you touch yourself, Trent explains, and Brian titters in response.

Normally, he could go on for hours if he did it to you himself, he smirks, but he only wants to watch you. This time anyway.

That makes your heart thud. But in a rather excited way.

Go on, love, Trent murmurs in your ear. He’s waiting.

You obey awkwardly at first, moving your hand down past your waist and in between your legs, wet already it seems. It feels strange, having this stranger watching you begin to masturbate and you can’t help but blush violently, feeling your face heat up as the heat of his dark eyes watches you closely. He has such a stern and steely gaze. Behind those eyes is amusement, but you can’t help but tremble beneath those eyes.

It’s starting to feel better, and you get into it, maybe feeling a little bold in front of him and certainly feeling comfortable enough with Trent behind you. Your fingers find your clit, and you play with yourself gently at first. When you moan, Manson leans forward, licking his lips, eyes like fire. Your free hand reaches up to cup your breast while you touch yourself a bit more aggressively, and getting more and more sensitive, you throw your head back with a small cry. Brian gnaws down on his bottom lip out of the corner of your eye, upsetting the lip ring, and you can’t help but smirk.

Another hand reaches down in between you with yours, and piano fingers mingle with your own, rubbing at your clit and slit quickly, helping you get closer. Trent’s mouth goes to work, attacking the side of your neck, sucking wildly and kissing sweetly. You whine loudly and then mewl softly at his words.

So wet, kitten. You purr when he squeezes on your other breast and brings you closer and closer to coming. Manson gets closer, watching the both of you intensely, you moaning in ecstasy and Trent drawing you closer to pleasure. You ask permission to come, and Trent nods once, rubbing and stroking your clit wildly until you buck and twitch as you orgasm hard, nearly screaming at the release. That’s when Manson gets down on his knees, rubbing himself through his leather pants, watching you fall against Trent in exhaustion and Trent catching you, and moves in with his head between your legs.

You feel his tongue first and squeal slightly at the overstimulation.

Relax, kitten. He just wants a taste.

You hear Manson humming against you and pulling away, he wipes his mouth, looking on in awe.

Taste so good…


	107. Teeth Kink

Trent attacks your neck like a vampire to prey. There’s something about his mouth on you that makes you swoon. You can’t seem to get enough of his lips, his tongue… No it’s his fucking teeth. After making a rude slurping noise when he breaks away from your throat, Trent leans in again for a sweet kiss, and just when you’re purring at his ministrations, he sinks his teeth in, making dents into your skin, slowly, ever so slowly dragging them down.

On cue, goosebumps form along your flesh and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. A throaty gasp and moan escapes your open mouth when he does it again on the other side, and you grip his shoulders, wordlessly begging him to keep doing that, please. You hear Trent chuckle against you. He knows exactly what to do to get you all riled up, all aroused… and wet. Slowly, his hand makes its way down and in between your thighs, finding that clit, massaging that slit, breathing into your mouth, drawing out the sigh from your lips when he leans in close for another kiss. Two fingers make their way into you, maybe a little rough, but you can’t help it when you squeal in delight.

You can feel his hard cock through his pants against your leg. He’s enjoying this almost as much as you. When he lowers his head to leave small licks and kisses along your tits, you hear yourself begging. More teeth. Please. Use your teeth.

He’s more than happy to oblige, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking on it gently and then biting down on it hard, groaning as he does so. It’s like he wants to see you bleed or something, just a little, so he can lick it up later. You tense and scream in pleasure, moaning loudly, whorishly when he does the exact same thing to the other. Trent removes his two fingers from deep inside your cunt and, humming contentedly to himself, brings them to his lips, sucking on them, licking every bit of you from them as he gazes at you with heavily lidded eyes. You watch longingly as that fucking tongue slides along his teeth, and he speaks.

Want me to eat your pussy, kitten?

Yes… please… you beg, and your begging becomes even more eager and desperate when his warm breath hits your swollen cunt. You practically scream when he takes your tiny clit between his teeth, pulling and biting down hard.

I could just eat you up.


	108. Gunplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Click.

_ **ALL OF THIS IS CONSENSUAL PLAY.** _

The rough nylon of the rope around your neck will certainly leave a burn. You shift a little but make attempts to not choke yourself seen as how the tie connects your bound hands close to your chest. You’re kneeling prostrate on the floor almost like a position of prayer and perhaps you think you should start praying soon. The barrel of Trent’s gun presses in close to the side of your head, and you begin to think about the possibilities of God being real. One finger pressing on the trigger could be your end. And that would be it.

Trent chuckles low, deep, his voice so rich and menacing; it makes you shiver in fear, yes, but shameful arousal and he knows.

Self-destructive slut.

You hear the click of the gun. Oh god… you cannot help but murmur under your breath, eyeing the weapon when Trent shifts to stand in front of you.

God’s not here, angel. He’s dead. If you want to remain alive, perhaps you should starting begging.

You gulp, loudly.

I don’t hear any begging, Trent taunts in a sing-song voice. The end of his gun presses firmly, right between your eyes.

Beg.

Word vomit. That’s all that can come out of your mouth at this point. Just meaningless, blubbering, incoherent and obviously getting on Trent’s last nerve. He sneers down at you and grasps a fistful of your hair. With it and ignoring your whining of how painful it is, he shoves you forward so that you hit the floor, face first, pressed viciously into the carpet, ass in the air, exposed, your whole body trembling. You feel the first harsh and painful sting of his hand coming down on your cheeks. And he doesn’t stop.

I. Said. Beg. Not. Fucking. Cry. You. Whiny. Fucking. Slut. Do you _understand_?

Trent hits you with every single word that falls from his snarling lips, teeth grit, eyes flaming, and then his hand is in your hair again; it almost feels like he could pull it all out and the tears of the pain prick your eyes.

Up.

You struggle to get to your feet, but you can’t use your hands, so Trent practically drags you to the bed himself, flinging you down on it on your back, whimpering and trembling beneath his heated gaze. Trent’s eyes rake up and down every inch of your body, causing a rosy blush to form. His gaze lands on your spread legs and moving closer, he reaches out to slide two fingers down your obviously dripping and swollen cunt.

Didn’t know this makes you so wet, princess…

You look on in attempts to look ashamed, but he only grins up at you, murmuring in awe at how wet you are.

What happens next leaves you moaning shamelessly and shocking yourself when you begin to buck up against the barrel of his gun, rubbing your soaked pussy up and down along it.

Yeah that’s right, you little painslut.

That little bit of praise leaves you moaning appreciatively, and Trent grins, pulling away from you. Perhaps if you clean this up, he’ll let you get off today. Trent presses the gun against your mouth this time and hums when your tongue flicks out to meet it.

Lick it clean, princess.

 


	109. Eat It, Bitch

He’s so desperate for you, and you couldn’t have picked a more perfectly compromising position. Trent strains a little against the ropes that hold him down and looks at you longingly. His lips are wet, his mouth parted slightly, tongue flicking out to wet them some more once you draw in closer.

Aw, desperate baby… Want me to sit on your pretty face, don’t you?

Trent only nods his head wildly, frantically. A small whimper escapes his lips once your hand teasingly trails down his naked chest, splayed across his tummy, then reaching down to rub his half hard cock through his underwear. Let’s see how hard he is down there, and you snap back the waist band, exposing his slowly hardening balls and dick. You hum in satisfaction, giving his balls a good squeeze, making his toes curl. You relish in this reaction and turn back to him, giggling at how wrecked and desperate Trent looks through just the slightest touch.

Why don’t you beg for it? I know you want this sweet, delicious ass.

Please, ma’am, Trent breaks out in almost a sob-like tone. Please sit on my face. I want to taste you. May I? Please, oh, please, please, please…

He drags out the last word in something of a whimpering whine. Just like a puppy. You giggle some more and give a disinterested sigh.

Well, all right. I suppose you deserve it for being such an obedient, little slut.

Trent looks appreciative at the praise and wiggles his hips just a little, shifting in the bed and waiting for you, watching you like a hawk. You climb into bed with him and turn around so that your back and ass faces him. A pleased noise escapes Trent’s lips, and then you gracefully sit down, right on his face, wishing you could see it buried between your cheeks. One order slides off your tongue in something between a purr and a growl.

Eat it, bitch.

Trent didn’t even need a penis to please you. His tongue does everything all on its own, and you squeal at the slight wet touch that slides along the crack of your ass. He does it repeatedly, and the sounds he makes tell you enough. He loves this. You almost wish you hadn’t tied him up just so you could feel his hands squeezing your cheeks. Little kitten licks flick at your ass before softly laving in slow circles. You mewl and then gasp when you see a quick twitch from his cock. You moan and simper, gradually extending your leg to rub your nylon-covered foot along his hard shaft. Trent instantly lets out a muffled groan against you, and perhaps he seems hungrier. A tiny squeak falls from you mouth, and your ministrations to his cock continue.

Keep licking that ass, you tell him. I don’t care if you can’t breathe.

 


	110. Wax Play

Imagine Trent dressed in nothing but leather holding a candle over your bound form.

The warmth of the tiny flame hovering over you, slowly melting the wax.

Watching it drip and slide down Trent’s long piano fingers and down onto your tummy.

The first drop, a searing sting, not painful but abrupt and unexpected.

Certain to leave a few red marks and welts along your smooth, trembling skin.

You, struggling against your bonds of rope on the bed, shifting the mattress a little, making it squeak.

Trent’s hand on your tummy firmly, telling you to stop.

Him, moving the candle up and down over your body, marveling at the melted wax hitting your frame.

Chuckling as he makes little hearts and his initials into your flesh as the wax melts a little faster.

Your whimpers as music to his ears.

You, watching his hand holding the candle slowly moving down towards your throbbing, swollen cunt.

Feeling the first drop so, so, so close to your genitals.

Thinking how you actually don’t mind the marks on your chest and wishing you could watch with those wide eyes of yours as he gently shakes it.

Some of it landing down there and that small whine that erupts from your lips.

Hearing him chuckle at your expense, signing his initials out of the wax just above it.

Murmuring over how cute you are when you squirm.


	111. Lactation Kink

Look how wet I am for you, baby.

Trent’s jaw drops at the sight of you approaching him on the couch, blouse unbuttoned down the middle, your nimble fingers gently removing it and revealing your wet bra.

So fucking soaked, so full for you.

Did he just gulp?

You simper at him, batting your lashes at him and moving closer to casually sit down next to him. Trent shifts restlessly in his seat on the cushions of the couch and eyes you, those eyes sometimes wandering down towards those breasts. He wets his lips, and you can’t help but wonder if it is because he’s “hungry” or horny or both. Probably both.

They look… bigger than usual.

You almost laugh at his nervous remark.

Relax, baby, you croon at him soothingly, inching just a little closer and chuckling when he wiggles just ever so slightly in his spot. How cute. There’s enough for you. I promise. You want to see?

God, you wish you could laugh outright at how violently he nods his head. Desperate. But you don’t dare embarrass him. You understand his little niche; in fact, you relish it. There’s nothing that quite compares to getting your tiddies sucked. But you get a little ahead of yourself and start slow, undoing the clasp of your bra and gently lowering the straps off your shoulders. Trent sucks in a deep breath at the sight of your tits, and his mouth waters. But he waits. Good boy. Good, good, _good_ boy. He smiles shyly at the praise, and you smirk once again.

Go on and touch them, baby.

You take his hand in yours, his eyes remaining on your chest, and press it to you, drawing out a gasp from the both of you.

Growing a little more daring, Trent kneads your tits with both hands, eyes wide, lips wet. They’re… really wet.

Mhmm.

His eyes look pleading, and you relent, placing your hand on the back of his head and drawing him in close. You feel his mouth first, lips wrapped around your nipple, and then hear his heavy breathing combined with his low groans, moaning and sighing over how good you taste. You feel him suck and you bite down on your lower lip hard to smother any loud, pleasured scream or high pitched moan. Trent’s hands are on your hips, yours in his hair, gently, tenderly stroking it while crooning soft, sweet nothings into his ear.

Greedy little slut, you murmur. You’ll suck me dry.


	112. Mommy Kink

He’s been such a bad boy; you tell him so and his face reddens instantly as he glances down, finding more amusement in the plush carpet.

Sorry.

Sorry, what?

Trent plays with his fingers behind his back and coyly looks you in the eye to answer with a meek little ‘sorry, Mommy’. You hum appreciatively and recline a little in your seat, watching him like a hawk to prey. You ask him what it is exactly that bad boys like him deserve. Trent is silent for a moment, and you raise a brow at him, inquiringly. You’re feeling rather impatient today.

A sp-spanking…

You snort rudely. Good answer. Snapping your fingers, you point to your lap, eyeing Trent standing there trembling with some sort of dominance he cannot disobey. Almost eagerly he approaches you to the side and bends over, inhibiting a small squeak when you roughly push him onto your waiting knee. Grabbing a handful of his long dark hair, you pull back sharply so he can look you in the eye docilely.

You do agree that this is what you deserve, don’t you?

Without hesitation, Trent nods, wetting his lips and responding with a soft ‘yes, Mommy’.

Mm.

You push him back down carelessly and yank down his pants by the waistband, observing and silently adoring that pale, white little ass. Cute. You can’t wait to see it blush. Without thinking twice, you bring your hand down on Trent’s ass, smiling at the soft gasp that breaks from his lips. Seems as though he’s already pretty sensitive and you remark on this, watching him wiggle restlessly and giggling at his expense. You slap him again, each time grabbing at his cheeks or gently smoothing the steadily reddening flesh. Trent whimpers aloud when those smacks become more harsh and more frequent, the pauses in between lessening and you laughter growing.

Sweet baby, you think you had enough?

His answer almost makes you wet.

I’ve had enough when you think I’ve had enough.

Then perhaps ten more slaps on each cheek should do the trick, you hum with a smirk.

You relish hearing his soft, little whines when you land blow after blow down onto his tender ass. Once you are finished, Trent gets up and looks at you expectantly. Smiling, you spread your legs and crook your finger at him. Come get your reward for being such a good, good boy.

Trent flushes and gets down on his knees in front of you, head prepared to bury itself deep between your thighs. You pull him back though by his hair with a sharp, reprimanding look and as him for the magic words.

Please, Mommy. Please may I eat your pussy?

You press his mouth against your cunt before he can react fast enough and enjoy the breathy moans that escape his lips while his tongue goes to work.

Of course you may, dirty boy.


	113. Office Sex

You like your job. In fact, you work for a genius, a musical genius who happens to be very good looking. Trent Reznor, the frontman of Nine Inch Nails, doesn’t mess around. He works hard and diligently, maybe a little too diligently as perfectionists often do, and he expects you to do the same, but sometimes you enjoy being a little tease. Just to get under his skin. Just to make him do things he wouldn’t normally do during “office hours”. Bad things. Terribly naughty things. Things that you absolutely want him to do. To do to you.

It comes down to it when he’s murmuring in your ear about what a terrible employee you’ve been. That husky voice in your ear makes you shiver, maybe a little wet, but you don’t dare tell him that. Let him at least find out on his own. And he most certainly intends to do so with those hands gripping your shoulders and backing you up against the desk, ordering you to get on it. Now. You instantly obey, hopping up on the surface of the desk, feeling Trent’s eyes on you, like hot coals burning through your clothes. He tells you to lift your skirt, wants to see what you’re hiding underneath, and you do so, hearing him let out a low whistle.

No panties today? Slut.

Bracing yourself on the desk, you roll your hips at him, letting out a pleased squeal when he quickly closes in on you, pinning you to the desk surface, knocking over papers and pens and whatever else in his way to getting to you. He’s almost feral now, hungry, and with something like desperation and a low growl, Trent unzips his fly and pulls out his hard cock, rubbing against your tight, wet little pussy.

You’ve been a very, _very_ bad girl.

Trent plunges into you, up to the hilt, filling you up with every inch and gasps at the glorious feeling of you tightening around him.

Maybe he’ll just come inside you deep, he threatens, filling you up so well with his thick seed and then pull out, leaving you hot and desperate and so needy to come yourself. Trent rolls his hips into you sensually, making you beg him not to deny you your orgasm. He places a finger to your lips, simpering at you with lust-filled eyes.

Maybe you can come after I spank you over this desk, angel.


	114. Orgasm Denial

You roll your hips up just to receive more friction, his sex grinding against yours, but Trent still refuses insistently and holds back, the remnants of a smirk still evident on his face. You are powerless beneath him, merely moaning and mewling for his cock while your pussy grows more and more wet with the passing minutes, seconds even. And he is enjoying every second of it, loving the way you suffer in this sexual frustration. His smirk widens into a full on grin, but still, he does nothing.

What the fuck is he waiting for? For you to get on your knees and beg for it like a good little whore? Probably.

Trent licks his lips and hovers over you with a sudden need in his eyes. You’re almost surprised he’s managed to hold out this long. You make him go crazy. But today? Today he is the one calling the shots. You couldn’t care less. You want his cock and nothing more, but the fucker simply continues to _wait._

Want me inside you, kitten?

You sigh and nod. Each touch he gives is like little sparks sent straight to where you need it most. His fingers stroke your cheek, caress your throat before wrapping around your neck entirely, exuding his dominance. It is that low growl from deep in the back of his throat that makes you tremble beneath him. It tells you to be fucking patient. He can go all day. Just a little reminder. You swallow and look up into those green eyes, piercing, cutting straight through to the bone. If eyes can kill…

Fucking beg for it.

You gulp once more against his hand and begin to try your best. The only thing that stops you abruptly is the consistent, slow, sensual ministrations of his cock against your clit, gentle at first, making your breath hitch in your throat, and then growing more and more persistent and greedy. Just the tip of his cock grinding against your sex, pressing in close, his hot pre-cum dripping onto your now swollen, throbbing cunt. You mewl as he strokes you continuously with it, looking you dead in the eye. Murmuring his name, you roll your hips into it, but with one hand he holds you down, growling at you dangerously, telling you to fucking _stop being so greedy_ and tell him yes or no, do you want his fucking cock inside you? You squeak out a “yes, please” drawing out the please with a high pitched whine and screaming once he finally does it.

In one smooth, fluid motion. He fills you up so perfectly; your eyes are practically rolling back in your head.

Why don’t you scream for it?


	115. Pain or Pleasure?

Keep her still.

You’re strung up like a marionette doll, completely naked, arms up and keeping your body suspended from the ceiling. Just like a puppet for both your masters’ liking.

Robin kneels by your feet in front of you. He doesn’t think you’ll be too much trouble, he remarks, running just a single finger down your thigh and towards your calf, making you twitch and shudder in anticipation. You just need to be touched, don’t you? Robin stands to face you and softly plants a quick kiss against your cheek.

Trent snorts rudely. Of course she does, the needy slut. The harsh sting along your backside makes you jump and cry out shortly. Robin instantly quiets your whimpers with sweet nothings whispered in your ear. You know exactly what game they are playing at, and you give in instantaneously, leaning into Robin’s soft lips pressing against the smooth skin behind your ear, trailing down your neck, sending goosebumps to fan out over your exposed flesh. Trent brings the crop back down against your tender ass once more, ushering a light curse from your lips.

Aw, I’m sorry, love, is he hurting you?

Robin fingers your trembling lower lip with his thumb, smoothing it over before leaning in to kiss you again. I’ll make it better.

Don’t worry, Trent chimes in. He’ll just make it worse and does so with multiple lashes against your body, refusing to quit to let you adjust. You can hardly get used to it too. Trent has a way of surprising you when the pain finally does come with a few teasing smacks at your butt, hardly painful at all, before mercilessly whipping you, as if he wants to leave you all screamed out. Robin hums as he slowly resumes his position on his knees, eyeing your wet cunt.

You seem to be enjoying this. Maybe I should stop if you love the pain so, so much, hmm?

You begin to beg. You don’t want Robin to leave you with just your punishment. Of course, it feels good, being degraded just like this for Trent and him combined, getting punished just so you can come later. But if Robin leaves, you won’t get to come. You beg some more before he finally shushes you, laving a wet stripe up your pussy with his tongue. You moan instantly and then let out a sharp cry once Trent hits you again.

Pain or pleasure, doll? Robin offers a sweet kiss to your cunt and then playfully slaps it, surprising you and making you recoil slightly in pain.

Trent’s lips are on your neck afterwards, murmuring those same words in your ear. Did he hurt you? Trent whispers sweet nothings in your ear as the roles are reversed, leaving you puzzled as to who will be striking you next and who will be kissing you and pleasuring you in the hopes of making you mewl like a whore.

You’re not answering, darling, Trent says in a sing song voice. Pain it is, then.

He brings down the crop on your bare skin without hesitation, leaving you waiting and whining before they ask you again.


	116. Big Black Boots

Down, doggy.

Trent kneels obediently and a firm nudge by Mariqueen’s boot brings him to his hands and knees just like the pup she wants. Much better. She observes him prostrate on the floor, how submissive he looks and it makes her ravenous just looking into those large wanton eyes full of lust and something like desperation. Precious boy, she murmurs, urging him to look at her. He eyes her boots first, namely the one still resting carelessly on his shoulder holding him down in this somewhat degrading position.

I know what you want.

Please…

Begging already? Mariqueen almost sneers and laughs a soft, little titter, her lovely eyes glittering down at him by her feet. Her voice is so soft but deadly, dangerous, like a snake wrapping and coiling around Trent’s body, leaving him in a state of mental asphyxiation. Around her, he can hardly breathe. He only wants her, but this time she wants to tease. She wants to play. Play with him. Go so far to see when he’ll finally break, when he’s finally begging for her.

Lick these boots clean before you can receive the goods.

Mariqueen gives her order and gently gives his cheek a light tap with the toe of her boot, making him flinch just a little and ushering more amused giggles out of her.

Well? Go on. Get to work, baby doll.

Trent obeys her instantly, getting down on his hands and knees even lower than before and letting out small pants while getting into position. Mariqueen nearly gasps watching him get right down to it, laving his perfect tongue along the leather of her boots, starting with the toes. That’s right, she praises. Lick them good and clean, slave. Trent cringes at the taste but continues avidly, spurred on by her encouragement and praise. He loves how dirty this makes him.

Let me hear you enjoy it.

On cue, Trent breathes out a few moans while licking gradually up her boots, offering- or perhaps sneaking in a few kisses to the shoes. Mariqueen catches him though and grabs him by the hair, reprimanding him severely.

I said clean them, stupid slut. You can worship my feet when you’ve earned the right. Now open your mouth.

Trent does so, letting out a small whine in the back of his throat, mouth wide open. Mariqueen simply smirks and shoves just the toe of her boot in there without warning, pleased with the loud choking noise he makes, one of surprise, discomfort, and maybe even joy. She hears the wet sounds he makes as he continues to clean with his mouth and tongue. It makes her wet, how degrading he loves to be just for her.

Bet you want me to take these boots off, shove all five of these piggies in your mouth, let you suck on each one, hmm?

Ecstatic, Trent releases a muffled noise that sounds something like ‘uh huh’. He wants to say please. He wants to beg, but only his eyes are pleading with her and perhaps she ignores it or she doesn’t notice. Either way she continues and so does he, practically making himself choke on her fucking boot. Mariqueen watches the drool drip down his chin and nearly keens at the sight. Trent struggles, but his eyes are lidded, watching only her, calmly waiting for his reward.


	117. Double Team

Trent has no problem filling Brian in on your sexual life together. He’s rather pleased that the both of you would choose him, and he’s more than happy to join when asked. Obviously, you see no problem with it considering the fact that both men busy themselves with getting on their knees in front of you, spreading your legs, offering soft kisses to your thighs with certain intentions in mind.

You blush. Sure, having Trent go down on you is heaven, perfect really, but you’ve never, ever had the pleasure of two men going down on you before. Now, with Brian here, you can finally experience it.

He can go for hours, sweetheart. Trent smoothes your thigh and gently kisses your hip, staring up at you sweetly. This may take a bit. Your blush deepens when Brian smirks, and then he almost growls somewhat predatorily, observing your cunt with two fingers. You react instantly, and his smirk stays put.

So fucking wet.

You hear Trent hum appreciatively and he leans in, his hot, wet tongue making contact without warning. Squealing slightly, you glance down at the sight of Trent’s face buried between your thighs, lips mouthing gently yet hungrily at your soaked pussy. Brian watches him in amusement, casually stroking his hair while he does so and stroking the flesh of your inner thigh with his free hand. Trent’s own hands grip your hips, kneading your trembling skin with his thumbs and smoothing up your sides while Brian continues to watch him, dark eyes glittering.

Let me have a taste.

Trent turns his head obediently, and Brian grabs his face in his hands with something like tenderness mixed with a lustful hunger and captures his lips with his own. Their mouths smash together, and you groan inwardly, staring at the mildly lewd scene, watching Brian’s tongue crook underneath Trent’s, which ushers a breathy moan out of him.

They break away only for a moment for Trent to remind Brian that he will share you, and then you remember why they are there in the first place.

Both of them lean forward this time, and you lean your head back instinctively. Trent’s hands work to spread your legs wider while Brian moves in to caress your tits, making you moan whorishly. Your brazen noise doesn’t stop there and neither does their mouths as they begin to leave soft, kitten licks along your cunt.


	118. Strength

It’s so hard right now. Too hard. You don’t know if you can even do this. At some points it seems like all people see from you is your body, but the body that doesn’t fit, the body that just isn’t right for you. Every single fucking day someone misgenders you, someone says “she” or “her”, and even after you calmly and politely correct them, they decide that the “humane” way is to continue to be rude and unfeeling to your emotions and requests.

You don’t get it.

You’re a fucking human being with feelings and needs. Why should you be denied your basic rights? But your “family” has walked out on you. Your “friends” hardly call anymore; they don’t know what to make of you, or they know, goddamnit, but they refuse to acknowledge the facts.

You are male! A man! And you are a man who deserves respect. But your faith in yourself has been shaken, and on days like these, days where it seems like no one is listening, you wonder if you can even go through with it and bear with even more severe scrutiny and judgment. And as a goddamn human being, you know you shouldn’t have to feel this way. You shouldn’t have to feel like the whole world is against you just because you want to do something for yourself. But you do. Because it seems like you’re teetering over the edge and the world has walked away. Just like them.

You want to scream. Scream in someone’s face, tell them through the tears and the sobs how low you feel, how helpless, how you can never tell if you can ever trust anyone again, if anyone will have your back anymore, help you get through this. Perhaps you’ll never be free from this.

Maybe you’re screaming all of this in Trent’s face at the moment; maybe you’ve snapped, but you just can’t take it anymore.

Trent isn’t taken aback. Instead, he remains calm. And does something no one has done in a long fucking time. He listens. He listens through every tear. Reads every emotion. Studies the lines of worry on your face and the way your lower lip trembles in anger and frustration and fear. Anger at the world. Frustration over the people you thought cared about you and loved you. Fear over how the world may react once you finally obtain the courage to do this for yourself, find your identity, your true identity, be exactly who you want to be.

Trent lets you yell and scream in his face all you want, and once you finally get all of the negative energy out of your system, he brings you in and holds you close.

I love you, he murmurs into your neck. I care about you. So fucking much. And I hope you can trust me, because I am going to do everything to the best of my ability to make sure that you never have to feel uncomfortable again. This is just one of the main struggles in your journey to be who you are. I love you for who you are. I love my boyfriend so, so much. You’re strong. Remain strong. You say your family has walked out on you? _I’m_ your family, babe. And I’ll never walk away. I love and am proud of the strong man you’ve become. You make me so happy. Don’t ever doubt that. I promise you, you’ll get through this, and you will succeed.

His words make you cry even more, but it’s like a good cry after an anxiety attack, once you’ve realized that everything is going to be okay and you can regain control again. You silently promise yourself that you will continue to be strong for him since he has promised that he will do the same for you.

I fucking love you.

You believe him.


	119. Pain

It is like a tea kettle, water rising to a boil, and the screeching scream of the appliance as the steam starts shooting out of the spout at a lightning speed. And Trent is about ready to fucking lose it.

Nothing is working out. Nothing. And no matter how hard he’s tried, he’s decided to give up for real this time (he couldn’t really say he hasn’t tried to before). No one appreciates what he does for the music industry; everyone spits on it and ridicules him and takes him for granted (going even so far as to take advantage of him). His own guitarist has decided he’s had enough of him and enough of this scene. Malm- well, too much has already been said about that fucking creep. No one wanted to listen to his post-new wave synth shit- an abortion as Gottlieb had put it. What makes him think that anyone would ever want to listen to anything he has to offer now? Fucking naive.

Now he’s never felt more low. Like someone decided to punch him in both the gut and the chest, tightening and tightening on his internal organs until he vomits from the emotional pain. He feels so useless, worthless.

Brian knows when an anxiety attack or a nervous breakdown is coming. He’s seen a few small ones before, and he’s handled them well, but this one seems different. Trent’s nostrils are flaring, and his mouth tightens into a thin white line on the drive home. His knuckles are even whiter, clasped together in his lap and the irises of his eyes flit over anything, everything. He’s taking in everything. Too much at once. And Brian knows he’s about to snap.

Trent stalks into his murder house, a place fitting for his anger and pain, slams the door in Brian’s face. Brian only falters for a moment before calmly opening the front door and assuming the worst.

He’s right of course. Whatever has gotten in Trent’s way has been violently knocked over. There’s a crash in the other room, and before he knows it himself, Brian is running towards the scene, hoping that it isn’t too serious. Another lamp maybe or a set of dishes. Whatever the case, there’s glass everywhere, and then there’s Trent, huddled in a ball in the corner, knees pressed up against his chest, his arms hiding his face. Brian approaches him softly and kneels down to get to his level until he stops once he hears a shuddered breath and a broken sob.

He’s crying.

This man built on rage and edge for his stage presence is fucking crying, quietly perhaps, but Brian has never seen him actually do it in his life. The way his body trembles with each shaky sigh and wet cough and soft whimper, Brian’s heart breaks for him. At a time like this, it’s enough to realize that joking about it won’t help. Telling him to cut it out and calm down won’t help either. Brian’s not that insensitive. He cares for Trent. Trent has been his mentor and friend, best friend perhaps since he signed him on. The last thing he can do is become inconsiderate to his feelings. The man has a hard, brooding exterior, but deep down inside, there’s a boy screaming for someone to care, someone to listen. Brian admits to himself that countless times he is that boy, despite the theatric ruse he offers his audience. He understands.

So he inches closer and positions himself next to him against the wall, only waiting for Trent to make the first move. What if he doesn’t want him to touch him? Brian continues to wait, frowning over Trent’s soft sobs, and then he feels him slide closer, desperate for comfort. Instantly, Brian throws his long arms around him and pulls him in close to a tight embrace.

Nothing really needs to be said. He doesn’t need Trent to talk about it. Trent doesn’t want to talk about it. He just wants to be held and cherished and understood. Gradually, his sobs becomes nothing more than faint sniffs followed by him drying his tears and wiping his nose. Brian dares to press a quick yet tender kiss against the side of his head, and a small smile forms on his face when he sees Trent scoot even closer for his warmth and love. His heart practically melts when Trent leans his head in close to his chest as he closes his eyes.

He doesn’t need to say it, but Brian knows that he’s grateful for what he can offer.


	120. More Railing

Trent grips your hips a little tighter and hoists your lower half high in the air while he continues to pound into you. Every grunt you hear from him is like a bit of praise of his lips, of how well you take his cock, of how good you feel around him, of how wet and warm, how soft you feel. How good. You bite your lip, smothering a groan by burying your face into the pillow and tightening your grasp on the headboard. Each thrust deep inside of you is like being torn open- but in a very, very good way. The position he has you in, too, on your front, ass up in the air with your legs slightly spread; it gives him the perfect angle to find your sweet spot.

It doesn’t really take that long to find it actually.

You cry out loudly, more like a surprised yelp ending in a droning moan as you bite into your fist. Trent purrs at your noise, obviously proud of himself that he can make you sound like that and only him. Both of his thumbs stroke your flesh around your hips and sides, encouraging you to keep going, make more of those sweet noises for him. He wants to hear more. In fact, just the sound of you screaming his name in ecstasy can have him coming in mere seconds. Especially at the rate he’s going.

Rock back against my cock, baby. I want to see just how much you want it.

You obey immediately, mewling at the sensation of bouncing back against his stiff length, feeling it brush ever so slightly against your spot right there. Trent watches you with heavily-lidded eyes glazed over in arousal, and he can just feel himself growing even more harder inside you. You’re perfect, he murmurs under his breath and pushes his hand down against your back, satisfied obviously, as he begins to thrust into you at a much more rapid and greedily persistent pace. You wish you could reach behind just to touch him, let your fingers glide over his pale, smooth skin, but your hands remain gripping the headboard for dear life, mouth hanging open at the constant sensation of that hard, glorious cock thrusting in and out of you at such a wild pace.

Trent doesn’t stop until he is pulling out and coming all over the small of your back. You can just feel some of the warm substance leak down into your crack, going even as far as over your wet cunt. That’s when he dares to lean down and lave his tongue from cunt to ass in one quick lick.

Stay just like that, baby doll. Let me help you finish.


	121. Erotic Massage

It has been sort of stressful lately. Sometimes you wonder if you can really sit down for some actual peace and quiet; everything keeps spiraling out of control in a massive wave of pressure and stress. You are on edge constantly in other words. It’s hard to keep up with friends these days. You have been thinking of returning to school, but the list of requirements in never ending. Just when you think you have everything under control to the best of your ability, something else looms overhead, laughing at you maniacally. You have been trying to learn to take care of yourself, but you never actually realized how hard that can be.

Trent sees your visible stress: accidentally slamming doors, heavy sighs, curt responses to his gentle questions. He doesn’t get angry with you for this behavior because he understands and he knows exactly what you’re going through. He wants to help because he remembers you doing the same for him in his time of need.

In fact, you helped so well, his ass hurt, his cock was throbbing, and there were various love marks on his body that he forgot were even there throughout the week. Trent wants to do the same for you but decides to take a different approach. A more gentle, sensual, loving approach.

This is nice, you think to yourself as you lie on your front. You haven’t had an actual massage in months, years maybe, and you heave a long sigh, letting him know he’s appreciated. Trent smiles and begins to touch you, large warm hands gliding up the skin of your back, fingers working at the various knots in your shoulders and at the nape of your neck. You groan inwardly as his thumbs apply pressure there, soothing you gradually as the tightness subsides.

That man can do so many amazing things with just his fingers alone.

Slowly his hands move down your back until they reach the place just above your ass, gently kneading, his soft breaths as he works reaching your ears. It’s soothing, and you mumble how good it feels. He chuckles lightly and continues, applying pressure to the small of your back, dangerously close to your ass. Well, if he wants to escalate things, all he has to do is ask. Before you can even mention your shameless thoughts to him, Trent nudges you a little and tells you to move over on your back.

You feel a little exposed, but you’re comfortable, and Trent works at your hips, very, very close to where you start to feel it. You blush. You honestly didn’t think this would arouse you, but now you can see everything that he is doing, and you want him to do _more._ Trent knows exactly what you’re thinking just by the way you squirm a little beneath his hands, and so he grows a little daring. He reaches up towards your neck, sliding his hands down and working at your collarbone with his fingers, softly kneading, even going so far as to cup your breasts with his hands before moving down past your sides, your hips, gently squeezing your thighs.

You spread your legs a little, an invitation, and he knows what you want.

With a small, barely noticeable smirk, Trent reaches for a bottle of scented oil and squeezes a copious amount onto his hands. They splay out over your tummy first, teasing you, so, so close to where you actually want them to be, and the smoothness of the oil makes you let out a small moan. Trent hears you and moves lower, finally, fingers tenderly caressing, sliding down your cunt in one motion. That one touch alone is enough to have your eyes pleading, your breath to quicken, your legs to move even farther apart.

Touch me, your eyes beg. Slowly, Trent circles his thumb around your clit, and you mewl softly. While his fingers work at massaging it, Trent easily slides one finger into you with his other hand, slowly pumping in and out and beginning a rhythm of staggered breathing out of you. Your chest heaves when he tries for two, and you begin to tremble as he pleasures you, moving up into you as if he is looking for the very spot that makes you fucking scream. Just when you feel like you could come in second, Trent reduces his ministrations on your throbbing clit and continues to fuck his fingers into you, slowly this time, calming you down, perhaps adding a third finger.

You cry out at the feeling of being filled by his pretty piano fingers and buck up into them. To keep you down, Trent places his free hand at your tummy while he works you from the inside, uttering soft, sweet nothings, gazing at you with those green eyes. You feel like you could burst any moment now and finally Trent returns to stroking your clit again while continuously fucking into you at a faster, more frantic pace. Those fingers inside you manage to find your sweet spot, incessantly brushing over it, making you whine and moan aloud, begging for more, begging to come.

You finally come into Trent’s hand with a strangled cry, gasping for breath, writhing on the bed and undulating your hips at him wildly. His fingers work the rest of your orgasm out of you, furiously brushing over your spot and stroking your clit until you are a twitching, moaning mess beneath him, completely undone by just his fingers. When you finish, he pulls his fingers out of you, cleans up, and then approaches you for a slow, full, searing kiss.

Still worrying?

Not at the moment, no.


	122. Finally

Even after all these years, Brian missed Trent, missed his body, missed the way he cried out every time he took him. Coming back to him, even after all the hatred and silence and loneliness, Brian never wanted to lose Trent ever again. And now here he is beneath him, on his hands and knees, begging for more in that deep, breathy, husky voice of his. Brian runs his hands over his muscles as he leans into him, pounding into him ever so insistently, loving that all too familiar feeling of how tight he is around his stiff cock.

Yes, he’s missed this. So much.

Missed the way Trent mewls softly after he comes all over the small of his back, after he kisses the smooth skin between his shoulder blades, after he turns him over, taking his thick cock into his mouth so that he can hear him scream his name in ecstasy. He missed all those things, and now he can finally see that pretty mouth parted in pleasure, see those beautiful green eyes roll back in his high, hear those sweet sounds fall from his perfect lips while his legs spread just a little wider as Brian takes him in a little deeper, maybe trying to make himself choke.

Trent missed the way Brian’s cock felt deep inside him, nudging his sweet spot ever so slightly just to get him to whine like a whore. He missed being Brian’s whore in whatever position for him, on his back, his front, on his hands and knees just waiting for the chance to come by his big, thick cock. He missed Brian’s large hand urgently stroking him down, missed the way his different colored eyes widened at how far he shot out when he finally came. He missed everything about Brian, his body, his voice, the way he smiled at him, a devious smirk or a warm smile, everything.

And now here he is on his back, staring into those now dark eyes gazing back at him lovingly before he’s leaning forward, pressing a kiss against his hip and moving down to make him fucking scream.


	123. Sextape

Having fun?

You smile into the camera, curled up against Brian’s chest while he holds you close, arms wrapped around you, playfully giggling. You’re all quite a bit buzzed from earlier and maybe just a tiny bit naked (or a lot). Trent holds the camera, his voice heard in the background as he teases you. He chuckles himself amidst the drunk laughter and zooms in on your smile more, because in the sober part of his mind, he just can’t get enough of it.

I wanna fuck her.

The camera zooms in on Brian, face nestled in the dip between your neck and shoulder, hands sneakily moving down towards your tits. You groan inwardly a little, your face a bit blissful, considering how tipsy you are. Trent gets the camera in close to Brian ministering to your neck, softly sucking and biting at the tender exposed flesh. Your moans get just a little bit louder, and in response, Trent begins stroking his semi hard cock, things heating up just a little, and you’re not that drunk that you can’t help but notice. With the camera in one hand and the other stroking his shaft lazily, Trent breathes out a long sigh as you quickly get down on your knees in front of him, eagerly taking his cock into your mouth. Not that drunk.

As you curl your tongue against the base, Trent whines audibly, and Brian takes that as the perfect moment to get behind you, hands on your hips, moving up to cup your breasts in his large hands. You hum around Trent’s cock, who moans at the feeling, hand in your hair lovingly, pulling strands out of the way as to see you better, see your face, you mouth, the way it stretches so beautifully around his thick member.

Trent pulls away, pleased with your whine of protest and then focuses the camera more on your face, how it screws up in ecstasy the moment Brian takes you from behind, sliding into you as if he were sliding into oil. Easy. Warm. He purrs in satisfaction.

Blow us a kiss.

You look directly into the camera, eyes lidded heavily whether in lust or intoxication, perhaps both, body moving back and forth while Brian fucks into you at a desperate pace, the soft noises you can’t hold in escaping your parted lips. With a smirk, you pucker your lips and offer a kiss to the camera, ushering a hum of appreciation from Trent.

The camera cuts out only for a moment and then resumes to a different scene.

Brian has the camera now, lowering it to his own cock as he strokes himself down and then directing it at Trent , now on his stomach, eating you out wildly as if you are the last thing in the world he can ever eat. Your moans and cries drown out all thought, but Trent’s breathy sighs can be heard in the mix of sex and musk and sweat. You never thought that a muffled moan could turn you on that much, but Trent simply goes for it, and he doesn’t stop until you’re coming right in his mouth.

In the background, Brian gasps and groans under his breath at the sight, finally coming himself and releasing all over the both of you. Trent blinks a few times and then offers one last lick to your swollen cunt.

Get everything?


	124. Ecstasy

Trent takes the first pill and then pops the second in his mouth, taking your face in his hands and drawing you in close for a passionate, sultry kiss. It goes right through you, and you gasp into his mouth softly, squealing just a bit when you feel him pass the little pill into your mouth with his tongue. That tongue then curls under yours and then he pulls away, moving his soft lips down your jaw and neck. You sigh, letting your eyes flutter closed and craning your neck a little. His mouth has always felt amazing on your skin, but somehow, it is starting to feel so much better.

After sucking on your neck and throat for a full minute, certain to leave a mark and proud of the results, Trent moves to hover over you.

Everything starts to feel a little more prominent, a lot more close. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest, and you can feel its pulse, like a dull, throbbing echo set in your eardrums. You don’t know if time has passed quickly or even if anything of significance has happened at all, but Trent hasn’t moved from his position over you. His breath is hot against your ear and neck, and something seemingly foreign brushes against your leg. You’re both naked you realize, and you wonder, bewildered, how fast he managed to take everything off of the both of you. You should be cold, but instead a hot flash washes over your body beneath him and only increases in waves of heat once his lips find your flesh again, caressing your neck, collarbone, tits, and stomach with his mouth, hot and needy against your skin. As soon as you feel that perfect pair of lips against that spot between your thighs, you moan but you almost sound far away.

Trent moans with you, offering little kitten licks to that sensitive bundle of nerves. You hear yourself whine and cry out in ecstasy, his name breaking from your lips. Trent’s soft but almost urgent breaths reach your ears as the room is flooded with them, as if that’s all that’s there; Trent’s breathing and that fucking tongue.

As soon as you begin to feel the little sparks of sweet release, Trent ceases his ministrations against your cunt and sits up on the bed, pulling you with him. The feel of his hands and the way he handles you leaves your head spinning in bliss, and then you feel him slowly enter you as he gently places you on top of him. The both of you groan together, low and gruff, greedy and drawn until you bottom out on him, eyes rolling in the back of your head at the glorious sensation of his hard dick thrust up inside of you. Placing your hands on Trent’s shoulders, you roll your hips, whimpering once when he fucks into you.

It almost becomes too much, feeling him fill you up with each thrust and eventually your hands fall from his shoulders. The only thing keeping you from falling back is Trent’s hands gripping your hips, which are sure to leave bruises later, as he moves you up and down on his cock. Rhythmically, you cry out and he growls with you, hands tightening at your hips, and with a stuttered whine from you and a loud cry from him, you both come together, Trent shooting his seed deep inside you, you coming all over his pulsing cock. You have never come harder in your life, and the waves of pleasure that flow through you seem to last a lot longer even as Trent falls forward, resting his head against your chest in his own high.

Pure ecstasy.


	125. Coffee Date

You’re glad you’re not the only one who seems nervous for your first date. You had gotten there first and now sit quietly in your seat at the table by the window of your favorite coffee shop. He said he was a musician- or an aspiring one; his band has had a few gigs, all pretty successful, and he’s been working on an album. You’ve never met someone so ambitious in your life.

Looking up, you notice him walking through the door, wild dreads a little bit in disarray; perhaps he ran to get here on time. Either way, he’s rather cute with a long nose, bright eyes, and an adorable smirk left on his lips. He sees you and immediately sits down but not without hesitantly shaking your hand first. His name is Trent, you remember, a name that seems to fit his physical features and manner. He smoothly removes his leather jacket, shaking his dreads out of his face.

You’re a bit surprised and rather pleased that he remembers your name. The both of you start off with that and mutter a few comments on how nice the coffee shop is. He’s a little jittery, moves around a lot, shifting in his seat, and you know he just wants to get comfortable. First dates or blind first dates in this case are always awkward in the first place. Cute, you think as you watch him pick his legs off the floor and sit criss cross in his seat. He catches your eye and blushes just a little, which is even more adorable, before apologizing and explaining that he just feels better this way.

You go from there and the conversation blossoms from the awkwardness of first dates to whatever else makes the both of you uncomfortable, and you both end up laughing and promising each other that you’ll never do anything to make the other uncomfortable if this is to continue. You ask him about his music, his inspiration; he really likes the Cure and Depeche Mode and has a rather unhealthy obsession with synthesizers. It’s a little difficult raking in money for rent just performing at select gigs but he has gotten a cleaning job for a local record company. He asks you about yourself, and while you talk, you can’t help but notice how attentive he is towards you. It’s almost like he’s drawn to the sound of your voice or something; smiling and laughing a little when you mention something funny and growing serious when you do.

It’s been a while talking with someone like this, relaxed, just talking, letting the time pass. It’s comforting, and you cannot help Trent thinks so too.

By the time the both of you have to leave, Trent lingers just for a little while longer. You feel goosebumps fan out over your skin once he takes your hand in his, holding it oh so tenderly for a long moment. You don’t remove your hand, and he takes that as his permission to lean in close and gently kiss your cheek.

Trent’s lips are soft, so soft, and you instantly feel more goosebumps as a small spark goes through you.

You don’t think you’d mind going on another date with him.


	126. Delayed Flight

Trent’s private jet has the works; meals, booze, music, movies, anything to keep your mind off the idea of flying. It’s not that you have a fear of being more than ten thousand feet up in the air; you simply want to throw up just thinking about it. Trent knows your discomfort especially for this flight, out of the blue, completely catching you off guard and leaving you an anxious mess. To relax you as best as he can, he grabs a blanket, two glasses of champagne, and a movie- a good, classic horror flick to watch just to keep you distracted.

He’s an absolute gem, you think as he snuggles you close to him under the blanket, strong arms wrapped around you while you lay your head to the side against his shoulder, sipping your drink.

While Captain Spaulding tells the tale of the reviled Doctor Satan, however, you cannot help but notice how close Trent’s hand is at your thigh. It rests gently over your knee, but the expression on his face, though staring straight at the screen, screams more than just gentleness. You swallow and turn back to the movie until you feel that hand and those long fingers make their way up the soft skin of your inner thigh. You shiver, knowing full well what he wants and what he’s trying to do, and you spread your legs a little to grant him access. A pleased hum breaks from his lips, and he takes that as his cue to run his hand all the way down your pussy right through your panties.

You can’t help the throaty groan that escapes your parted lips and quickly, Trent covers your mouth with one hand, reminding you that this isn’t a _completely_ private jet. Those fingers slightly brush against your clit and your eyes roll back into your head at the lewd gesture, more moans muffled by his hand. Trent pulls your panties to the side, marveling at how wet you are already and instantly slides one finger inside you, making you squeak softly. With a triumphant smirk, Trent begins to pump that finger in and out of you while stroking your throbbing clit furiously. It isn’t long before you’re coming in his hand, your own hand clinging to his arm, thighs squeezed around his other hand working you from the inside out. Short breaths erupt from your open mouth, and Trent smiles coolly while he draws out the rest of your orgasm, shushing you quietly.

The both of you didn’t expect the bathroom door to open immediately after and out walks Robin, zipping up his fly before eyeing you two and freezing in his place. It doesn’t take long for him to figure out what the two of you have been doing and the silence is deafening despite the screams of horror coming from the screen. You can almost hear a pin drop.

With an exasperated sigh and a dramatic eye roll, Robin turns right back around and closes the bathroom door once again, vowing not to come out until you all land.

Trent is too busy chuckling to himself that he doesn’t notice your hand this time making its way toward his crotch under the blanket. As soon as you rest your palm against it, Trent instantly whips his head to the side in your direction, sobering up and blushing, reddening deeply.

Perfect.


	127. A lil bullet point about Trent's ass

  * First thing’s first, Trent’s booty refuses to quit.
  * Let’s be totally real with each other; in the nineties, his ass fucking popped out of those short leather shorts.
  * Y’all thought I was going to be poetic when talking about his ass?
  * His ass is fucking poetry!!
  * Despite how tiny he was back then, his ba-donk-ka-donk completely contrasted that.
  * It was so round (I don’t even have an ass- you look at me and nothing pops, but with Trent, that ass speaks.).
  * He really likes to move that booty on stage, and even as an older man, he still manages to show off the goods.
  * Okay, in the five hours of closer footage, that fucking ass seemed to pop even more in those leather pants.
  * I think we can all agree he has a really cute butt.
  * Lewd thought for a moment from my “disgusting and depraved” mind: imagine that ass swallowing those dildos from that collection he was so proud of.
  * There was a reason he wrote Ringfinger, and that ass and a little finger was his fucking inspiration (I’m pretty sure- don’t take my word for it, but that entire album is about depraved sex and break ups, okay?)
  * This kinky fuck has a collection of dildos for a reason, c’mon.
  * Now that he’s worked out and gotten in shape over the years, that ass is probably pure muscle and can most definitely knock me over and launch me into the fucking sun.
  * I kind want to play with it, but really, who doesn’t?
  * In conclusion and once again, his butt refuses to quit!!




	128. Daughter

You have never seen him more sad. He’s not even angry. Just disappointed, and that’s far, far worse. It is almost as if all those childhood memories with him have been thrown out the window, laid to waste, dead, nothing. Just his eyes boring into yours, glazed over with hurt and confusion and concern- more than concern. Worry. Panic.

How long?

It doesn’t even sound like a question. Just a statement masked with exhaustion.

Four months.

You hardly managed to let the words escape your lips. It’s more like a stutter. You’re so ashamed. You’re so afraid of yourself. He’s so worried about you, and you mentally kick yourself for ever thinking that he would do anything but that. Fuck, he’s been there. He knows. He’s suffered, just as you’re suffering now. And now he’s watching you, his little girl, fall away from him. He swears he can’t allow that to happen. Ever.

And his eyes are so, so fucking sad. Glassy. Wet. He’s about to cry, and you know for damn sure that you will if he does. He grabs your shoulders suddenly; you hadn’t expected this and let out a small, surprised cry. It’s broken. You’re going to cry. You know it. You can’t. Not now. You can’t let him see you like this. But his arms are so strong and secure, like the day he first held you when you came into this world. And he swore he would always protect you. He’s going to do everything to protect you now, keep you out of the black grip of harm crawling towards you once again.

What have I done.

You shake your head. It’s not him.

What did I do. I didn’t look after you like I should have. I didn’t warn you enough. I didn’t talk to you enough. You needed me. And I wasn’t there.

He’s blaming himself. A broken sob escapes your lips.

Rolling up your sleeves and observing the puncture wounds along your arms from those goddamn needles, he vows to protect you now. He swears he’ll get you out of this. And it will be hard. And it will be painful. Maybe you’ll resent him. Maybe you’ll resent each other. Maybe you’ll fight him. Maybe you’ll be close to death, ready for its embrace. But he won’t let you slip through his fingers. He’s going to hold onto you until his hands pull away bloody and raw and sore. Because he loves you so, so much. Because you mean the entire world to him.


	129. Put In His Place

_Fucking make me._

The sharp slap across Trent’s face is what leaves him wanting more. The rings dig into the soft flesh of his cheek. It’ll leave a red welt; he’s certain of it. What is life without a couple of love marks along the way?

_Cunt._

Brian says it with a hiss as he grabs his chin, forces his head up, makes him look into those dark, piercing eyes; a fucking gaze like that could burn holes into Trent’s clothes and flesh. His lower lip quivers, but that’s merely more of the adrenalin rush, the surge of masochistic energy that flows through him every time Brian touches him this way. He almost _purrs_ upon feeling that thumb brush over his mouth, circling around it, pushing in. Trent opens obediently, eyeing Brian coyly, a “fuck me” stare, and Brian’s almost reeling at the sight of his toy on his knees and staring up at him as docilely and playfully as a kitten.

He just hasn’t been domesticated yet, and Brian knows it from the slow, sure smirk that forms on his beautiful, smug face.

Brian smacks him again and again, asking him if he finds this funny, huh? If he finds this whole thing funny? He things pain is funny? Well then, he can have some more. And he continues to hit him until Trent’s face is knocked to the side, eyes squinted shut in the sharp sting of it, a blotchy red mark definitely forming on his smooth, pale skin.

_If you want me to be nice, then why don’t you stop acting like such a little bitch?_

Is that another goddamn smirk? He must really love pain then.

Especially when he is strapped, face down on the bed, completely and utterly naked, wrists and ankles tied securely to each end of the headboard and footboard.

Brian straddles him, cupping his bare asscheeks in his hands and relishing that soft, muffled whimper from beneath him. He grabs Trent by the hair, pulls his head up, growls in his ear on how brats like him don’t deserve to come. Brats like him deserve to be treated like fuckholes and nothing more.

Trent gasps out a “fuck you” until he is carelessly pushed down on the bed, face first so he can barely breathe, and Brian starts landing smack after smack against his pale ass.

_You wanna say that again?_

Oh, wait. He can’t. Because he can’t breathe.

Brian enjoys hearing the smothered whines, the incoherent pleas for air while he spanks him mercilessly, humping him in turn. And then, when Trent is practically screaming into the pillow, Brian lets him up for air, asking him once again if he’s going to stop being such a fucking slutty brat. It’s so easy to break him. And he fucking loves it. Every minute of being punished, spanked until his thighs are shaking, until his breaths are staggering.

_I’m going to fuck you now._

And Trent’s head is turned over his shoulder. Brian catches sight of a bit of saliva running down his chin from his ordeal and asks him if his cock is hard. Reddening, Trent shamefully nods his head and now it’s Brian’s turn to smirk.

_Well, you’ll just have to wait, won’t you? Brat._


	130. Nipple Piercings

Trent is the one who paid for your nipple piercings, and he is the only one who gets to touch them obviously. Even after a week, it still feels tender, and when he gently rubs his thumb over one of them under your shirt, you suck in a breath audibly, hissing through your teeth, because, god, it’s invasive and unfamiliar but feels _so fucking good_ when he actually does it.

You feel the goosebumps fan out over your body when he consistently rubs at your hardening nipple, moving towards the other one and doing the same. Your breath hitches in your throat when he presses down a little too hard, but you sort of love the painful sting that comes with it. With two fingers, he pinches your nipple, playing with the ring a little and then tenderly cups your breast, adoring your soft moans as he nuzzles his face into your neck, hot breath spilling out over your sensitive skin. He sure knows how to make you fucking squirm.

With your permission, he lifts your shirt, sucking a breath at the glorious sight of your piercings. It’s as if you can practically see his mouth fucking water as soon as he lays eyes on them, and you redden but feel a surge of pride as he marvels over you. Slowly he leans in and takes one of the rings into his mouth, lightly pulling before enveloping your nipple between his pretty lips and gently sucking on it. You mewl down at him, stroking his hair and tugging on it once you feel his teeth sink in.

You weren’t fucking expecting _that._

It feels like heaven, and then he moves to the other one, offering it the same treatment, and you purr at the sensation of his tongue flicking out at your piercing. He plays with them like a cat to a new toy, delighted with the outcome of it.

Then you feel his hand go down your pants, and you know exactly what he wants to do to you.


	131. Still Has His Tongue

You’re sitting up when he does it. And he does it slow. Nice and slow. Gets into position, on his knees in front of you before the foot of the bed, eyes saying a million things, a million wonderfully obscene things. A soft, large, warm hand smooths up your thigh, caresses the crest and dip where your hip meets your pelvis bone, and his thumb incessantly strokes at the spot, sending multiple shivers running up and down your spine. You visibly tremble above him, and he notices, that signature smirk forming on his face when he hears an oh-so soft noise escape your parted, pink lips.

Trent decides he’s going to have so much fun with this. Oh yes.

Gently, just one hand reaches up and out to splay ever so lightly over your throbbing heat, and you mewl automatically at that, bucking your hips up voluntarily, perhaps wondering if that should actually give you a little bit of friction to enjoy. And he just fucking chuckles at the sight of your pleasurably strained distress. Fucking. Chuckles. Jerk. Why can’t he just get on with it? But you don’t dare say that aloud to him; he might decide to just abruptly stop and leave you lying there, wanton, utterly and absolutely _horny_ on the bed. So you wait. And wait. And then he’s not doing anything.

You open your eyes, prepared to be frustrated when his gorgeous green ones meet yours as he gazes down at you, those eyes speaking a million things; lust, hunger, love. You practically gulp, but his lips fit so, so perfectly against yours, molding, melting, shaping to yours in a searing, hot kiss you realize you never want to end. The only reason he decides to end it is to get a good taste of your neck with that perfect set of lips. Trent peppers your throat with quick kisses before giving the base of it a long, wet, open-mouthed kiss that has you gasping beneath him. He growls deeply, enjoyably in turn before making his way slowly, slowly down, pausing to bite down on certain areas that force embarrassing noises from your mouth, noises that make you blush, that make him hum appreciatively.

One long heated kiss at your inner thigh and then his mouth hovers over your dripping cunt. Trent kisses it tenderly to start with, and god, you love this man. Each kiss is short, but each one right after the other seems to become more sultry against your throbbing flesh there. You can’t believe you’re already so sensitive with the incoming, overwhelming pleasure that his lips alone can offer. But as soon as it comes, it leaves just as quickly and he pulls back to observe you, eyes on what is in between your legs. He certainly looks hungry; that’s for certain. Then with a contented hum, he leans in, lips enveloping over your clit, mouthing at it and sucking at it, determined to have you moaning even louder for him. You nearly gasp, but your mouth just drops open while you stare; the sight of his entire mouth on your pussy, his nose buried against the soft patch of hair, his hands gently gripping your thighs while his thumbs stroke and massage your skin. That beard that he’s worked so very hard to grow over the past few weeks brushes against your thighs and a little bit against your pussy while he continues to eat you out. You didn’t think it would feel this nice, but it fucking does.

It starts to become too much too fast, and you know you’re going to come soon if he doesn’t pull away right this very instant. Trent hears your heavy breaths, watches the way your chest heaves as you come close, and then he breaks away from you, ushering a long, needy whine from the back of your throat. His eyes ask if you want more, and your own beg and plead with him, making him smirk some more; you could smack the fucking bitch. He dives back in as avidly as ever, tongue laving up your cunt, mouthing over your clit until your voice begins to crack at how damn good it is. That fucking tongue.

You feel him break away only just a little but his tongue remains, flicking out over your clit ever so slightly, repeatedly, nonstop. You feel the waves of pleasure coming, and you realize that this time he’s not stopping. He wants to see you come. He wants to feel you come in his mouth. With your head leaned all the way back and your mouth dropping open, a strangled moan and sigh escapes your quivering lips as he finally finishes you off, tongue fucking into you a few times while his head moves with the rhythm of you rocking your hips against his face as you come. You hear that breathy, husky growl leave his lips as he licks you up, every last bit of you, and you give one last sigh before falling back against the mattress, thoroughly spent but equally satisfied.

Trent leaves one last sweet kiss there when he finishes and smiles up at you. God knows, he enjoys this.


	132. Just Friends?

You don’t know where you stand with Trent. If someone were to approach you, mic and camera and all, and ask you about your relationship with him, you would adamantly state that the two of you are just friends. Nothing more. And that’s all you both decided you would be.

Funny how that changes.

Now you’re unsure. Questioning things. Things like the way he smiles at you when you ask him a question or just randomly bring up something funny or intriguing that happened that day. Things like the way his dark, long hair falls over his face when he leans over, studying and playing the knobs and buttons in his studio. You catch yourself thinking about how he would react if you tucked that lock of hair behind his ear.

As a rockstar, it’s his job, his trademark to exude sex. You knew when you first became friends. Maybe you’ve accepted; you’re unsure, but now, you find yourself staring when he changes into a different shirt, studying the expanses of his smooth, white skin or how his back muscles flex once he lifts the shirt over his head. It’s sexy. You won’t deny it. Everything about him, you realize, keeps you from denying it. But you continue to deny one thing and one thing only: you’re just friends. Just. Friends. The question passes back and forth through your mind. What if he feels that way? What if he doesn’t?

Trent’s hand brushing over yours in the studio is what ignites the spark. Cliché, right? Of course, but, that’s him. That’s everything about him. His voice, his smile, his body. And now, the way he touches you. Maybe he doesn’t think anything of it, but you do. And you finally accept it, touching the spot on your hand absentmindedly where he touched you. The sparks scatter, and he eventually notices you staring at him.

Before he can even ask you what is wrong, you’re pinning him against the wall, hands brushing the hair out of his eyes, catching his face in them, and bringing him close. You’re kissing him. And his lips are so, so soft. Just like you imagined. Soft and warm; you caress them gently but insistently with yours. What makes you hold him tighter is when he kisses you back. He actually kisses you back, mouthing at your lips with his soft, perfect ones, and you sigh into his mouth, knowing that somehow in the back of your mind this is how you wanted it to be.


	133. On or Off?

Trent scrutinizes you with playful eyes as you emerge from the dressing room.

To be honest, you’re not a fan of it. You feel a bit overdressed; the train of your skirt has ruffles. Maybe too much glitter? Either way, you glance up at Trent uncertainly, and he laughs outright at your expense, ushering you to go back in while handing you a different dress to try on. Tomorrow night is yet another awards show, but for some reason, this is the part Trent enjoys the most. Maybe even more than you. Definitely more than you. He loves seeing you in any outfit, praising you with saying how you look amazing in every single one. You tend to beg to differ, but he’s too in love to even care.

The next dress is a bit tamer, and of course he thinks you look stunning, but, with his chin resting against his hand in deep thought, he waves you away, telling you it looks too simple. You can’t help the sigh that escapes, and Trent grins widely. This will be the last one; he promises. You try on this dress, and for some reason, you have a feeling that this will be the one. You couldn’t be more correct in your assumption.

Trent’s jaw practically drops as you emerge from the dressing room, gracefully, holding your skirt to keep from tripping. His eyes follow you, hungrily. Everything about this one seems to fit so, so perfectly. The waistline wraps you snugly into the fabric; you blush a bit, nearly every inch of your exposed skin a light pink, and hesitantly you look up to meet his gaze, still in awe of you. This one, he murmurs. You play with the train a little, tentatively, eyeing Trent sweetly, shyly, and he bites his lip staring right back, the hunger in his eyes plainly evident. He decides immediately. This will do. This will do nicely, and your blush deepens at his announcement. You cannot help but agree.

Trent approaches you quickly, pinning you against the door, and you realize his intentions as soon as you feel his hot breath against your neck, feeling those eyes piercing burning holes into your flesh, feeling those large, warm hands slide up your waist, enjoying the sensation of the satin that encases you elegantly. Blindly you fumble with the doorknob of the dressing room, stumbling backwards and him with you into the suddenly tight space, perfectly tight. Trent chuckles and shuts the door abruptly before advancing on you.

Now, how do we get you out of this?

You giggle.


	134. Manznor First Time

Brian knows it’s Trent’s first time, and he isn’t immune to the fact that he could hurt him if he doesn’t take this slow. He imagines pounding into that pretty, perfect ass, unrelenting, imagines Trent moaning whorishly for more, goddamnit, more, but some things can wait- especially if they are with the one person you love.

Trent swears it’s fine; he trusts Brian- with most things obviously, one of them being their relationship, and he knows for a fact that Brian will take care of him through all of it. He knows that he won’t try to hurt him; that will never be his intention in this case, but Trent can’t help that the butterflies begin to form as soon as Brian shuts door and approaches him sitting there on the bed, looking coy and anxious, of course. Brian loves those large green eyes staring up at him, and he feels he could get lost in that intoxicating gaze if it isn’t for what they are about to do for the first time.

Will it hurt?

Brian hears the anxiety in Trent’s voice. And for a long time, he thought the adorable fucker was more into this kind of thing than he was. He certainly is kinkier. Brian is simply surprised when Trent asks him what it feels like. Now, he’s nervous, wondering if the pain will last.

I won’t let it last.

Brian reassures him with a smile and leans in for a sweet, sultry kiss before sitting on the bed next to him, wrapping his arms around him, pushing him gently down and enjoying the sigh that escapes Trent’s lips, right into his waiting mouth. He swears he can feel Trent’s heartbeat against his chest, pounding right out of his ribs, sure to crack and break, and so he kisses his nose, softly urging him to relax. He’ll make him feel so good. Trent nods and lays back, softly gasping when Brian’s full lips graze over the side of his neck, down his throat, when those hands slide up underneath his black t-shirt to lift it over his head. Trent sits up to help him take it off and then falls back once more, gazing down at Brian ministering to his chest and tummy with that fucking mouth.

He hears his belt buckle coming undone, feels it slide from the loops of his jeans, feels Brian pulling down his fly, thumbs hooking into the waistband of his jeans, slowly tugging them down. He only pulls away to remove the rest of his clothing, and Trent can’t help but blush at seeing Brian fully naked. It’s not like he hasn’t seen him before, but under these circumstances? This is different. This is Brian exposing himself for him and only for him. And now it’s his turn. He doesn’t think he’d see stars, but Brian’s pulling down his underwear with his teeth, looking up at his bewildered gaze just to smirk at him and of course, that’s the Brian Trent remembers. His blush deepens.

Trent feels a little more vulnerable once he’s on his front, but nothing prepares him for the long, wet lick up his ass, and he almost hates himself for the girlish squeak that erupts from his open mouth. He turns his head right around to stare at Brian wide-eyed who glances back, that time-stopping grin growing bigger.

Never had your ass licked?

Trent shakes his head and Brian shrugs, going back down, burying his whole fucking face in it. And all Trent can feel is that tongue circling mercilessly over the ring of nerves that serve to send endless amounts of pleasure straight to his groin. He knows this feeling, but the idea of Brian’s tongue up his ass? Never really gave it much thought. But he certainly is thinking about it now as another low groan spills from his lips.

Now comes the hard part (no pun intended). Trent decides to look away from the scene; maybe if he doesn’t know when it will happen, he won’t feel as much pain. He hears the cap of something being unscrewed, lube maybe? and something cool rubs against his exposed ass along with one of Brian’s long, pretty fingers. Trent’s breath hitches in his throat, but Brian bends down to kiss the small of his back, gently muttering under his breath for him to remain relaxed, as best as he can. Slowly, one finger slides in, slicked up with lube, and immediately, Trent chokes on his own spit.

How does that feel?

Brian stops and stays right there for a moment, allowing Trent to adjust, and Trent shyly turns his head, searching for the right words to say exactly what he’s feeling. It’s not that painful, but it certainly feels weird.

Like… I have to take a shit?

Brian suppose that’s the best he can come up with, and he chuckles lightly, moving in a little deeper. Gently, he crooks his finger, feeling daring, and Trent gasps, spins his head around over his shoulder, begs him to do that again, and he does. The second finger is a lot more difficult, and Trent can’t help the small whine of discomfort once Brian slides both of them in. Brian shushes him tenderly, places a kiss between his shoulder blades, asks him if he should continue or stop. Trent only nods his head for him to keep going and buries his face deep into the pillows. The third finger makes him cry out but another short, pleasure-filled cry overtakes that one once Brian brushes his fingers over a certain spot inside of him. And quite honestly, Trent can’t tell if he’s going to come or pee while Brian continues to rub it, but, _fuck_ , it feels so damn good.

I think I’m going to come.

Brian hears the whine in the back of his throat and gently but immediately pulls his fingers out. Trent practically whimpers in protest at the loss of them, but he waits as patiently as he can while Brian washes his hands and then returns with a condom and more lube (safe sex is still important). As soon as he hears him ask if he’s ready and feels his slicked up head rub teasingly against his aching hole, Trent quickly moves to speak up, turning around, begging to see him while he does it, while he fucks him.

Brian seems unsure, but Trent is adamant and lies back, eyes pleading, wanton, doe-eyed. Fuck everything, Brian can’t say no to that, so he gets into position between Trent’s spread thighs, hoists his legs up against his shoulders and casually eyeing Trent’s semi against his stomach. Trent also gets a good look at Brian’s cock and wonders how any of that will fit inside him, but the tender kiss against his calf on Brian’s shoulder is enough to reassure him.

Slowly, surely, as gently as he can, Brian slides in, stretching Trent to the limit, marveling at the sight of his ass taking it, inch by fucking inch, and once he’s all the way inside, right up to the hilt, Brian falls forward, hands on either side of Trent’s head, asks him if he can move. Trent, shocked by what has just occurred, still unbelieving that he took him, nods wordlessly, and Brian starts slow, steady, but slow, rocking his body back and forth beneath him while he stares up at him, breath hitching in his throat with each thrust. A sheen of sweat covers both of their bodies, and hesitantly, Trent wraps his trembling arms around Brian’s neck, begging him to go just a little bit faster.

Eventually, Brian forms a steady rhythm that gains in momentum, more power with each thrust as if he wants to reach deeper inside, trying to find the one spot that can give Trent the ultimate pleasure. Trent moans with him and clings to his neck, loving the feeling of Brian’s soft, long hair brushing against his chest and throat, tickling him as he buries his face into Trent’s neck, nuzzling him. Brian reminds himself to not go out of control, remember that this is still Trent’s first time, despite the circumstance of him, breathlessly moaning in his ear to go faster, please, faster.

With a throaty moan, Brian tells him he’s going to come. Soon. Trent clings to him tightly, like a boa constrictor, murmuring sweet nothings in his ear, how well he takes him, how he’s so close, how Trent wants him to come deep inside him. And he does with a strangled cry, fucking into him a few more times, listening to Trent’s desperate whines, how they urge him to spill every last fucking drop. He doesn’t forget him though as he stares lovingly down at him, panting heavily in his high while his hands brings Trent to sweet release. Brian swears the sounds and expressions he makes could possibly make him come again; he’s never seen Trent look more beautiful.


	135. Pushups

You little brat. You thought I was going to let this one slide, thought I was going to show mercy this time, didn’t you?

Well, jeez, when his queen talks to him like that, Trent can’t help the semi that starts to form as he stares into her piercing, intoxicating eyes. He fucking loves how dominated he feels when she talks to him in such a humiliating way. Mariqueen narrows her eyes and clicks her tongue, letting him know that she’s waiting, and she’s quickly starting to lose her patience.

You know what to do.

Down Trent goes, on his hands and knees first, a soft grunt escaping his lips as he gets into position to do what she wants. He just doesn’t expect the sharp stiletto heel digging into his back, right between his muscled shoulder blades, urging him lower, lower so that his nose nearly touches the floor. Trent continues down even though the strain immediately starts to effect him. And he hasn’t even done anything yet. He looks to the side and up slightly so he can watch her. Mariqueen’s eyes still stare hard down at him, and she gives a pleased “hmph!” in satisfaction. Right where you belong, dog.

I want twenty from you today. Twenty, and no fucking excuses.

But, mistress-

Thirty.

Trent sighs and lowers his head in defeat. Until he hears her again.

Forty then.

His head shoots up to turn and stare at her in disbelief, but the raised eyebrow keeps his mouth shut. He begins to obey, starting with the first pushup, still feeling her heel digging into his back, still digging, making him grunt in discomfort.

Painful?

He nods.

It better be. Don’t you ever disrespect me again. Let this be your punishment. It could always be worse, though.

Trent can’t help the whine that erupts from his open mouth, already panting after the first ten. It’s a little difficult with a fucking stiletto in your back. Quickly, he quiets, hoping she doesn’t call for more, but all he hears is soft titters out of her. She’s obviously amused at his suffering.

Look at you. Think you’re such a big strong man, don’t you? You think this impresses me? I’ll let you in on a little secret, pet. It makes my pussy so fucking wet watching you like this.

Trent groans deep after the fifteenth upon hearing this, already feeling a little bit of sweat begin to form. This must be some sort of reverse psychology to boost his ego like this. Perhaps she’ll punish him if he decides to show the slightest bit of pride at her praise.

Oh my god, what is this?

Trent instantly reddens upon feeling her foot connect with his growing hard-on through his pants.

Does this fucking get you off?

He can’t deny it.

Maybe I should make this harder for you. Have you do these on one fucking arm.

Trent is about to protest when Mariqueen gently rubs her foot against his bulge. He almost stumbles while in the middle of the pushups, but he quickly rights himself and continues.

If you try to rut against my foot or stall for anything, I’ll make you start over.

But she doesn’t remove that heel from his groin.


	136. Panty Sniffer

You finally caught him. You knew there was something going on with him, and now you finally found out what. And the result of your efforts is most entertaining.

Trent’s in your room. Earlier, you heard some movement going on in there, like someone rummaging through your things, and you had opened the door slightly ajar. It’s jaw dropping really, and you wish you could laugh outright at the scene before you. You always knew Trent was at least somewhat kinky, but this outdoes it. Each of your drawers to your bureau are open, clothes spilling out, socks and blouses strewn about the floor, but for Trent, he finally finds what he’s looking for, and you take in the sight, amused, wide-eyed, the laugh in the back of your throat threatening to break free and expose you from your hiding place.

Trent fucking Reznor brings the pair of black panties to his face, right up to his nose and inhales deeply, unable to stop the low, pleasured groan that escapes his lips as he does so. He breathes in deeper and then breathes out, as if he had been holding his breath under water. You can’t believe what you’re seeing, and yet you can’t bring yourself to look away. He practically rubs his face in it, all over his face before burying his nose deep in the fabric once more.

At this point in time, you want to know what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling, if he smells you, nearly the same scent as when he goes in deep to lick your pretty pussy. This is something you never expected, and yet, you’re quite flattered with the results, enjoying the show, especially when he grows a little more daring. Unaware that he still has an audience, Trent slowly brings his free hand down towards the waistband of his pants, slips inside, past his underwear, breath hitching in his throat as he palms and grabs at himself while he takes a few more good whiffs. The sound of him sighing in satisfaction makes you a little wet, you admit, and so you open the door a little wider to get a better view.

With a few small huffs, Trent rubs himself down and just when the both of you think he is mere seconds away from coming in his pants, you make yourself known, opening the door wide and causing some sort of surprised and kind of inhuman startled noise to break from Trent’s parted lips. You can tell he’s ashamed already; this was his own secret, something he didn’t want you to figure out for fear of being judged and humiliated. Oh, you want to humiliate him, but not exactly in that way.

Let’s indulge in this fetish of his.

You can just imagine tying him up, spread out on the bed, just waiting for you to smother his face with your cunt, deny him from breathing. And just to make sure he doesn’t make much noise (though you rather enjoy hearing him grow desperate with each passing minute), you would jam your soaked panties into his mouth, gagging him, and fuck, would he love it.

Trent watches you, red in the face, as you reach underneath your skirt to remove your panties, slowly, sensually, eyeing him the entire time. Dangling them almost as if to tease him, you ask if this is what he likes, what he wants.

Trent’s blush deepens.


	137. Spanking Trent

Trent lets out a muffled groan. His face is buried in his arms while you smooth your hand up his bare back, gliding over his muscles, stroking along his shoulder blades and down to the small of his back. This is something he can never get used to, and you make most certain of it as soon as your free hand comes down hard on his naked ass, forcing a short cry out of him and his entire body to jolt right where he lies. Gently you smooth that spot over, soothing the red that forms on his sensitive flesh, perhaps blowing tenderly over it, letting it heal for a moment.

Then you do it again. Harder this time. He doesn’t even see it coming and cries out again, but the cries are those of pain and pleasure; he wants you to punish him this way, humiliate him, own his fucking ass. It’s all it takes for him to get nice and hard, practically leaking on the bed.

It hadn’t started out this way. Trent simply wanted you to do it. He asked, and for a bit, you were uncertain, wondering what had gotten into him. So… he wanted to be punished? Was this some self-destructive method? Perhaps, Trent didn’t want to hurt himself anymore, but something had struck him today, and he just needed you to be the only one to do it. What a masochist you think, but you relent anyway, indulging in this niche of his, allowing him your hand to come down hard on his exposed ass. Underwear down, pooling around his ankles along with his pants, shoes and shirt strewn about the room, lying who knows where.

And now here he is, utterly naked and wanton, shamelessly rutting against the mattress, toying and fisting with the sheets, fingering the creases while he waits for another smack. He fucking wants it. Enjoying the little show of need he gives you, you spank him again and again but only along your terms, in your own time, slowly, gradually, never allowing him to get used to the awfully pleasurable, stinging pain. His ass will be bright red by the time you are finished with him. Ripe as a strawberry. You could kiss it. He pleases you like this, needy, whiny, desperate, moaning like a whore for more. What a treat it is to hear that deep voice crack as he feels himself get closer to the edge, right at the very end of the cliff.

He needs release; you know it. Trent shakes, trembles violently as your hand hovers over his ass, waiting for the right, exact moment to give him what he wants. He nearly gasps as if he can feel the heat of that hand that had been striking him relentlessly. And then, upon hearing one last throaty whine, begging you for more, you come down hard on him, offering him smack after delicious smack. You marvel at the bright white handprints that form from you striking him mercilessly. He yells out each time; you swear you think you hear your name, strangled, breaking from his lips, and then, you’re finished.

Smoothing your hand over his cheeks.

Feeling how warm it had gotten from your blows.

Noticing him shaking in the aftermath.

Kissing the small of his back and moving up to whisper in his ear.

Telling him what a good boy he was, how good and obedient he was for you.

Hearing him hum contentedly at your praise.

And feeling the sweat that had formed in his short hair as you run your fingers through it.

 


	138. On His Knees

With a quick push against the wall and a gentle growl in your ear while he nuzzles your neck, Trent leaves a trail of soft kisses, brushing his lips against your skin, mouthing at your throat, and enjoying the small whines and squeaks that fall from your parted lips. Trent grins and drags his teeth down your trembling flesh. Already you’re moaning for him. All it takes is one touch from him and he gives you so much more than that. Too much. You feel like you’re on fire. Each touch makes you melt, sends shivers running up and down your spine; you could probably collapse, just giving him more of the opportunity to do all of these things to you and more. One last kiss to your bare tummy, and Trent gets down on his knees, staring up at you with something in his eyes close to hunger.

Your breath hitches in your throat once he unzips your jeans, tugs them down abruptly. You practically squeal in need. The warm kiss against your cunt through your underwear is enough to have you sobbing for more. Trent chuckles against you, does it again, and you buck a little into his face, sighing out in quick, short breaths, letting out high whines, feeling him grip your hips, slide down to your thighs once you feel his teeth graze the waistline of your panties. He tugs them down as well, moaning huskily before burying his face deep between your thighs.

You feel his tongue first, flicking out gently at that sensitive bundle of nerves, and then he goes in avidly, wildly, as if he could just eat you up, swallow you whole. You hear him breathe against you, and that sound alone arouses you enough, makes you want to come instantly into his open mouth. He sucks on you hungrily, and even those wet sounds make your eyes roll back into your head in ecstasy. Only urges him on, and you’ll have imprints of his thumbnails into your skin if he keeps holding you like that, marking you as his.

The feeling of his tongue inside you all of a sudden causes you to scream out in pleasure, and immediately your hands move to Trent’s head, absentmindedly pulling on his mop of perfect messy hair, running your fingers through it, tugging on it until you hear him grunt from your wild ministrations.

Perhaps he wants to hear more from you. Trent doesn’t quit, and that perfect tongue leaves you moaning and whining his name shamelessly, and each time you murmur his name, he grips you harder, offering a fresh wave of stinging pain with that pleasure. He practically rolls his head into it, and you rock your hips into his face, wanting to feel more of that tongue against your fucking cunt. Just hearing him gasp into you when you finally come is enough for you and you let out a strangled whimper and whine, quivering in your high.

Trent eventually releases you, planting a quick kiss against you before patting your thigh and getting up.

Next time he wants to see you come again.


	139. Young but Sure

Option 30 has really taken off, and you notice, so does your relationship with this young musician. His ambition is inspiring, his charisma makes you swoon. You find you’re wildly attracted to him and want him now more than ever. That intoxicating smile is what you want to see once you finally lose it, looking down at you, mouthing the words “I love you” and “so beautiful”. You decide you want to lose it officially to Michael Trent Reznor.

When you confess this to him, he’s suddenly bashful. It’s not like he is a virgin as well- in fact, he’s far from inexperienced, but just the same; it’s adorable watching him get flustered, blushing furiously, stammering out in disbelief that you really want to do this with him? You nod, of course, he’s the only one. The only one for you, because, and you can’t say it, not just yet, but your feelings for him have swelled, blossomed into something much, much more. So much more tender and delicate and innocent.

But what you want is passionate. Nice and slow. And Trent undressing you in the dimly lit light of your own bedroom is like something out of your wildest dreams. He’s awkward at first, and you cannot help but wonder why. It’s not as though he hasn’t done this before, but perhaps this is something that means just as much to him as it does to you. Your heart swells at that sudden thought, and your chest heaves up towards his lips, how he caresses you with just his mouth alone and how his hands, large and warm, follow soon after, ushering sounds out of you you didn’t know you could make. And Trent absolutely loves them, begging you to make more with each kiss down your body.

You shiver beneath him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he slowly guides himself into you, making you whole, connected to him. Like a thorn to a flower first, you bite down on your lower lip hard, waiting for him to move inside you, waiting to get used to it. But he’s waiting for you. Waiting for the go ahead, and you couldn’t have asked for anyone better. He’s perfect. He’s everything. With your nod and the small gasp from your parted, wet lips, he takes you gently, like hot iron out of the fire. You form to him so well, molding, melting against his body, feeling how perfect he is inside of you, deep, deep, deep…

You wish moments like these would never, ever end. You want to cling to him forever.


	140. TransMale Trent and Male Reader

It has been quite a journey to get your baby to where he needed to be, wanted to be, always knew he could be. He’s closer than ever and you couldn’t be more proud of him at where he is now. Most of these changes made him anxious, and he wondered how he would be able to adjust to all of them one right after the other, T, top surgery, etc. But he was so brave, you think. He is so brave. And you love him even more for it.

Not everything has happened just yet, and even though Trent is one large step ahead, ready to become who he always wanted to be, he cannot help but recognize that same dysphoric feeling from before, the one that’s always told him that he’s so far behind, that he’ll never be able to catch up, that he’s not strong enough. You’re always there to put an end to those intrusive thoughts if only temporarily. Because you love him and you let him know that you will always support him in everything. He understands this, and he knows it, and with a short kiss against your lips, Trent allows you to gently push him down onto the soft mattress.

The loving feeling is still there, but hotter, hungrier, more dominant, especially on your end. Trent stretches out on the bed like a cat, and how you want to make this kitten fucking purr for you. He always makes the cutest sounds; the sounds of his voice cracking when you hit that spot _right there_. He lives in ecstasy when you’re around. Trent watches you get on the bed yourself and slowly begins to unbutton his shirt while you raise his hips and legs dragging his body closer to you. You love the little patch of soft hair that had begun to form on his smooth chest, and so you kiss it, loving him with your mouth. Trent’s breathing is even but hitches when you apply your teeth, especially at those hard little nipples, biting down on them and sending his body in spasms. He moans when you take him into your mouth, loving him, caressing him, stroking him right there with your tongue. Each little lick, each long lave followed by obscene wet sounds is enough to make him come on the spot.

You pull back just to get him to buck his hips up in a needy way. Pull back just a bit to teasingly flick your tongue out at him, making him writhe in the best possible way. Then you envelope him in your mouth again and suck, and Trent fucking whines; you love that glorious sound. Shows you how much he wants it. And you just want to make him feel so good, better than he’s ever felt. So you continue to hit that spot with your tongue, and he continues to whine and begs you to make him come; he doesn’t know how much longer he’s going to last. And you want to feel him come in your mouth.

The way he moans your name. You lick and stroke and caress until you finally feel him stiffen beneath you and then writhe and twitch in ecstasy as he does exactly what you wanted him to do. He looks so fucking beautiful when he orgasms, and you draw it out of him completely, every last twitch, every last shudder, loving how wet he has gotten for you. And as you had hoped, he purrs in his high, stretching his arms over his head and looking down at you dreamily, lost in how amazing you made him feel just now.

You give a kiss to his inner thigh and stare up at him lovingly. You would do anything to make him feel like he’s the most important person on the planet.


	141. Necrophilia Fantasy

He’s just lying there. Utterly immobile. Not a twitch. Not a sound. No moaning or restless shifting. Trent Reznor lies dead in your bathtub, the shower cord wrapped around his neck tight, his white button down shirt ruffled, unbuttoned and hanging off his torso in disarray while that head of hair more wild and crazy than ever, looking like there was a sign of a struggle. You inch closer, curious and then pull back with a small, satisfied grin on your face.

He’s still hard.

You can see the bulge, the outline of it pressed up in his jeans, and tentatively, you trace a finger around it, imagining you hear his desperate, breathy moan while you do so. Hooking one finger at his zipper, you slide it down, sighing at what nearly springs out from underneath, practically bulging out of his underwear. You finger it gently; you cannot believe he is still hard and after reaching down inside his underwear, you pull him out, gasping slightly at the mere sight of it. Trent is so erect, it slaps against his stomach, and you almost giggle at the sound of skin slapping skin. Taking it into your hands, you manage to get yourself into the tub with his corpse and mount him casually, happy you had taken off your panties beforehand. The hem of your skirt falls gracefully over his pale crotch, and you gradually slide yourself down, taking him in, inch by fucking inch, feeling him inside you filling you up, feeling how good he is inside you despite the fact that no blood pumps in him except towards his dick.

The fact that he remains as a human dildo is enough for you to release all over his hard cock. You breathe out a sigh as you bottom out on him and lean down to kiss his dead, cold, frozen lips.

Then you began to ride him, slowly at first. You gradually gain momentum, enjoying the fact that he hasn’t even gotten limp yet. Hard. Rock hard. Just for you. Just for your pleasure. And you’re happy to use your dead sex toy to your heart’s content. Feeling your orgasm approach, you begin to bounce up and down on his cock, brows furrowed in the growing pleasure, almost swearing you can feel his cock twitch deep inside of you. It’s almost too much. Gripping the collar of his shirt and moving his body with each twitch and shudder out of you, you come all over him, all over his stiff cock, rocking his frozen corpse while you ride out your high, eyes nearly rolling back in your head at the waves of pure bliss that ripple through you. You scream once, but your screams are the only thing that can be heard, echoing throughout the bathroom.

What will you do now? Take advantage of the body? Perhaps you’ll grab one of his dildos or your strap on from his collection, lube him up as you bleed him out, make yourself come again just by fucking him. Watch his legs flail about lifelessly while you pound into him. You manage to mutter your plan to yourself aloud, and that’s when you hear Trent chuckle.

So are we doing this again?

You smirk, unwrapping the cord from around his neck. You promise you won’t use his blood as lube, you giggle lightly.

Tell me about it then, Trent moans, while you fuck my corpse.

You can feel yourself getting aroused again just by the mere thought of telling his “dead body” all about your most fucked up fantasies.


	142. Trent Groping You in Public

It started in the car first on the way to the store for groceries. One thing led to another on the road, swerving just a little, stopping abruptly, and Trent did that thing he normally does just to make sure you don’t go forward after he brakes. The “mom arm” you call it, protective, just something he does to keep you safe. As soon as it happens and as soon as he brakes instantly, screeching to a stop, Trent’s arm flies out to the side as if to shield you, hold you in place. You turn to him with an appreciative smile, and then he decides to move his hand lower.

Your smile fades only to turn and stare back at him with something of a mischievous smirk on your face, knowing exactly what he is up to. Trent doesn’t look your way, nor does his expression change. He simply keeps his eyes on the road and applies some gas- but not without offering a good squeeze before placing both hands on the wheel.

Cute. Real cute.

The second time it happens, you’re checking over the list at the store, wondering what else you need to get for your special dinner tonight. Then he comes up beside you, looking over your shoulder, pointing out what else is missing in that soft, husky voice of his. The hand on your ass catches you off guard completely, and you nearly choke on your own spit. Trent caresses you with his thumb and pats your ass lightly without another word before he walks away to grab a few more things.

Smooth.

The final time he does it, at the cash register, you silently wait until you are all checked out before dragging his ass towards the car and shoving him in the front seat. He tries to get up but all you have to do is straddle his waist, pinning him there.

The fucker is practically grinning from ear to ear.

You know, if you wanted to get punished, all you had to do was ask, you tell him smoothly, your voice soft in his ear. You swear you can feel him getting hard underneath you.


	143. Tease

You know you’re getting on his nerves- but in the best way possible. Trent casually rolls his eyes but keeps them glued to the Moog in front of him. His bedroom’s small; not small enough apparently, considering all you want to do at the moment is be close to him, overwhelmingly close, maybe get him annoyed with you. You decide you can do with a little angry fuck tonight.

Maybe it’s the light drumming of your finger tips against sound board while he tries to focus on this up and coming album. You notice Trent’s eyes wander to the side slowly, rest on you; seems pretty annoyed already. Or maybe just wary. Wary of what exactly it is that you are planning. What do you have up your sleeve? You merely sit down, slide a little closer, just close enough so that your hips touch. Perhaps that is a bit of electricity that bolts through Trent’s body. He jumps slightly but pretends that he didn’t feel your touch, pretends that he doesn’t feel your hand on his arm, lightly stroking with your finger and thumb, drawing little hearts into his skin teasingly.

You catch him shuddering, in the best way, because your touch alone makes him feel fucking amazing. But for some reason, he tries not to seem too interested.

Oh, well that simply won’t do.

Your hand crawls up his bicep, hopefully tickling him, maybe sending a few of those pleasant shivers down to where he really, really feels. And by the looks of it- the restless shifting, those green eyes wandering your way a bit nervously- you’re succeeding.

I wanna play.

You mumble it, letting your breath waft over it, gently flicking your tongue out at it and watching him absolutely lose it. But still. Not attention. None at all. His pretty green eyes are still on his work, fumbling with knobs and buttons. That won’t do either, you think and decide to let your hand do more of the work as it slides down his thigh, down towards his crotch, giving it a light squeeze. Nothing major. Just enough to get him going. And he gets going. In fact, you find yourself on your back, no questions asked, eyes wide, grin wider.

All right then. Fine. Is this what you wanted?

All you can do is giggle incessantly. And it only places heaping coals of fire on his head.

Trent grabs you by both of your wrists and holds your arms above your head.

Naughty little slut. Guess I have to punish you.


	144. Betrayal

You don’t think you’ll ever, _ever_ get that picture out of your head. The one where he’s enjoying it. The one where you’re not in it. The one where he’s fucking somebody else instead of you. Doesn’t matter who it is, doesn’t matter if you know her or he knows her or she’s simply an absolute stranger. If it weren’t illegal, the bitch would be dead by morning. Which bitch? At this point, in your blind anger, you don’t care who you’d kill. As long as they realize that cheating on you would be a big mistake.

But that’s all in your head. You’d never, ever hurt Trent or anyone else that he decides to fuck behind your back. You’re just not that type of person. And look where it’s gotten you. You let people walk all over you, do everything for them, and in return they stab you in the back- Trent, mainly, by sticking his dick where it doesn’t belong. You could practically scream. Everything about it is so wrong. But you can’t take your eyes off of them. The two of them. Laying there in you and Trent’s bed. Fucking. Fucking and loving it.

There’s a tiny part of your brain that wonders if this is your fault. The two of you had been giving each other the silent treatment for about a week now; Trent’s focused on his work, and you have family issues and job issues that pop up every so often you can’t even keep track. But you were there for him when things got busy and stressful. For him. Writer’s block on this side of heaven, and you’d pull away, give him a good night kiss, tell him you will always support him and that he will get through this. Most certainly. But maybe that’s not what he wanted. Maybe he wanted something more. And you weren’t giving it to him. Truthfully, things haven’t been that great in the bedroom. With everything on your mind, school, job, your family, as dysfunctional as they are, it seemed to distract from Trent, and he noticed. So maybe he felt ignored?

No. It isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault.

It’s his.

So looking at him pounding into some skank, who you think looks much prettier than you, and watching him enjoying it with that same blissful expression he always gave you, you begin to scream. Obscenities, threats, broken promises, why would he do this to you, how could he do this to you, etc. etc. etc. And that blissful look on his fucking pretty face instantly fades once he realizes he’s been found out.

You drag his screaming slut out of _your_ bed, throw beer bottles after her, watch her with angry tears streaming down your face as she runs out into the street in nothing but her underwear. You almost wish she’d get hit by a car.

But you push that thought aside and return to the room where it happened, where Trent’s standing there, white as a sheet, eyeing you with a mix of shock and utter guilt. Honestly, you wish you had the strength to actually hurt him as you pound your fists into his chest, slap him across the face, crying, fucking sobbing out the words. Why? Why? Why?

He doesn’t know why. He’s sorry. He doesn’t know why he did it. He wants you to stop. Please stop. Before you hurt yourself.

You scream, he’s already hurt you enough.

Then you grab the bags, open the chest of drawers, the bathroom cabinets, grabbing your clothes, your anxiety medication, what little else you can take to get yourself out of this monster house. Trent watches you, and the tears are pouring down his cheeks as well, begging you to forgive him, knowing that what he did to you was wrong, so wrong, screaming at you to stop, please.

You are out of the door, out of the murder house before he can grab your hand, hold you tight just like he used to in hopes of keeping you, holding onto you, never letting you go.

He already let you go. He just didn’t know it yet.

While you wipe your nose, dry your tears, you wonder if you would ever let him speak to you again once you’ve calmed down. Does he even deserve it? Some thoughts in your head scream no, but there’s that one thought that reminds you of how much you care about him and love him and honestly that thought hurts you the most of all.

Trent paces wildly back and forth, muttering over how stupid he is, how fucking stupid. Of course he knew that he shouldn’t have done it. And he hates himself now more than ever.

One thing’s for certain however.

He’s going to try and win you back.


	145. Mirror Sex

There are so many sensations at the moment, during this one blissful moment, this one moment where all you can feel is Trent Reznor’s glorious cock deep, deep inside you, his large, warm hands and long, pretty piano fingers caressing and stroking, reaching behind to grip your hips and moving around, gliding across your tummy, reaching up to cup your breasts lovingly. His warm, sweet breath wafts and rests against your neck, and his soft, beautiful lips mouth at your skin, leaving a heated trail in their wake.

You purr softly at the feeling of his wonderful mouth and hands pleasuring, but his cock alone seems to be doing most of the work, pumping in and out, in and out of you, sliding in deep so easily as if you were nothing but hot, smooth oil, or peaches and cream. Trent makes the point of gasping out how good you smell, how he could just eat you up, swallow up all your sounds that you make, all those pretty, adorable sounds that just sends more shivers running up and down his spine, all the way down to his cock. His fucking cock. It’s so hard for you. Just for you. And you love it. You fucking love it. With each thrust, Trent gains power and momentum. His speed increases, rocking your entire body. Your one hand is on the surface of the chest of drawers, gripping one of the handles while your other free hand reaches up to caress his that rests against your throat.

Trent adds more fire to this passion; it feels like the room is over a hundred degrees. A sheen of sweat forms and rests over both of your bodies, like you the both of you are molding, melting, connecting to each other. You give out a loud cry as Trent shoves in deeper, grabbing your hair with one hand and giving it a good hard yank and wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you close, flush against his torso.

With your head pulled back, you find yourself staring into the mirror in front of the two of you. In the heat of it all, looking at yourself, getting fucked by this rockstar into oblivion seems so dirty and so insanely hot all at once, and you cannot help but moan whorishly, loudly, loud enough so that he chuckles against your neck before biting down.

So looking at yourself while I fuck you turns you on?

You mewl and close your eyes as he shifts and continues to pound into you.

That’s so fucking vain. You little horny slut.

Oh, let him shame you. He only fucks you harder while he does so, as if he wants to leave you all screamed out, wet and raw and wrecked, completely and utterly wrecked. You glance into the mirror, and Trent looks with you, the evidence of a smirk forming on his face.

Go ahead. Watch me fuck into you like the good whore you are. Watch it. I want to see you come looking at yourself taking it from my big, thick, hard cock. Taking it and loving it.

Shit, if he keeps talking this dirty to you, you’ll come instantly without any warning.

But he’s right. You’re so vain, and you know it.


	146. Incest (Father/Adult Daughter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IF INCEST TRIGGERS YOU, DO NOT- AND I REPEAT- DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION AND THE CREATOR DOES NOT CONDONE THESE ACTS IN REAL LIFE.

You love your daddy. He’s protected you and guided you through everything. The two of you have shared a special bond since your birth, and for some reason, at least on your end, that bond has grown deeper, more meaningful, more emotional. Sometimes you’ve questioned the emotions that enter your mind when you’re around him.

First they were innocent little thoughts.

You love the way he smiles, the way the corners of his eyes crinkle when he does so, the way his laughter can instantly make you feel better.

Now it just gives you butterflies in your stomach. The good kind. You just didn’t know how to react to them yet.

But you do now.

Sometimes you bat your lashes at him. Lightly. At the slightest glance he gives you- across the dinner table, in the car, wherever.  A small smile tugging at your lips, a slightly confused one right back at you, and then a quick kiss on his cheek before you head out the door, sprint to your room, feeling his eyes watching you, unsure perhaps. Caught off guard.

Truth is, things haven’t been the same since Mom left.

You know he’s lonely. He’s been lonely ever since, and for while you wished you knew how to help him. That bond you had, that you still have has grown substantially since then, and the thought of what you could do to help him has aided in that growth. Now you linger by his side, offering him two more kisses on the cheek instead of one before you get out of the car on the passenger’s side, leaning your head into the dip between his shoulder and neck while the both of you watch a movie, and lingering there even a little bit longer once it ends. The third night you do this, you dare to gently rest your hand against his leg.

He starts to wonder what’s up. Half of him begins to drown in intrusive thoughts and worries while the other half remains curious on how far you are willing to take this.

Apparently not far enough.

Things are different this time. He’s alone in the living room, sitting in the chair by the piano, writing something down on a pad of paper before hurriedly plunking down on the keys, a random tune, a little melancholy. You love when he works on his music. It’s one of the many things you admire out of your own father. Once he hears you enter the room, his smile is the first thing you catch before a more startled expression crosses his face.  Of course what father wouldn’t be startled when their daughter instantly moves to straddle their hips, sitting right smack in their lap. The entire room is silent, drenched in silence, so quiet you can almost hear it, but nothing but the sound of the dull rhythmic thumping of his chest and the pounding pulse in your temples is all the both of you can hear at the moment.

You make the first move, breaking the ice by placing both your hands on his cheeks, running your thumbs over his stubble, loving the scratchy roughness of the beginnings of his beard.

Daddy.

He hears your voice, small, demure, like the content yet curious purr of a kitten. His eyes remain on you, but a blush has fallen over his beautiful face.

I’m a woman now, Daddy.

That blush deepens, and you reel inside, knowing he now realizes what this is all about.

We haven’t had a woman in the house since Mom left us. I think it’s time I took that role, don’t you think? Because I know you’re lonely, Daddy. Aren’t you lonely?

God forbid he should look at you ever again the way he looks at you now, stern yet completely and utterly uncertain. Yet with the slightest hint of something else. Eagerness. That expression alone sends more butterflies, but they settle somewhere else.

He murmurs your name, his deep voice gruff and mixed with vinegar and honey, a sweet and sour taste you would like to savor on your tongue. You lean in to kiss him without another moment’s hesitation, and it most certainly catches him off guard as his hands spring to your hips, attaching like twin vipers ready to snap and sting. Sweet and sour. Pain and pleasure. Something you haven’t felt with anyone else before. So why shouldn’t he teach you?

He says your name again, louder this time, but for some reason, the uncertainty in that tinted voice is gone, so you nuzzle his neck, rubbing your cheek against his, loving that rough sensation of his beard.

Don’t you want me to fill that role for you, Daddy? I can. I know I can be good for you. I can act like Mom for you. You always said I looked like her…

Did he just fucking moan at that? Doesn’t help that the heat of your sex and your nearly soaked underwear rubs incessantly against the bulge of his jeans, rocking his body in his seat, hands clinging to his biceps, sliding up his neck, down his chest while his own hands grip your hips harder, direct you to move faster against him. He moans again, and you mewl.

He doesn’t try to stop you. If a boy’s best friend is his mother, what does that make the father towards the daughter?

The last thing you hear before he shoves his hand down your panties is the sound of him gasping the name of your mother with heated breaths into your ear, sending enjoyable shivers to run up and down your spine.


	147. Sex at Six Months

You are getting fairly bigger as the months pass, and Trent just cannot seem to keep his hands off of you. Most of the time, he wants to feel the baby kick. The first time he felt it, felt that tiny foot inside you, he nearly went through the ceiling, a broad smile crossing his face. Now he’ll take whatever moment he can to relive it, with your permission of course, rubbing your belly sweetly, cooing down at the baby inside of you, how he cannot wait to be the child’s father.

Honestly, the way he takes his role of the father already is actually pretty hot. You are fucking attracted to his excitement over your pregnancy. His love for you has grown substantially, and his spirits almost seem lighter in a way. You watch him kiss your tummy lovingly, watch him soothe your skin there with his large, warm, protective hands, and you take his face into your hands and pull him up for a sultry kiss. That alone is enough to let him know that you need him. Now.

Your breaths remain broken and shallow, a blissful smile crossing your face. Eventually sob-like moans break from your lips along with your soft breathing, and you roll your hips gently into Trent’s face while he continues to lick you. All you can feel is his tongue and his hands gripping your thighs and his warm breath at your sex, and all of it sends you reeling; you assumed you weren’t going to get that much when you realized you were pregnant, but now it seems that he wants you more than ever. New fetish for him? Probably. As the pleasure intensifies, you hear your voice crack as you moan, hear yourself begging him to get inside you. Please. Trent looks uncertain for a moment, and truth be told, he doesn’t know how all of this works. He doesn’t want to damage anything or hurt you, but you laugh lightly, tell him the baby is completely protected and beg him to just get up here, for the love of God.

Feeling him inside you is amazing as always, feeling him brush against your walls, reach deep inside, as far as he can go to give you so much pleasure. You murmur his name and hold him against you, flush against your body, like life would be on a standstill if he wasn’t near you like this, touching you, caressing your flesh, kissing you fervently.

Trying to make a twin?

You gaze at Trent, gasping as he fucks into you deeper, and smile.

Want to try?


	148. Fluff while Pregnant

Trent takes good care of you and shows you how much he loves you when you’re pregnant with:

Hot tea while you’re on the couch and a quick kiss on the cheek before delving into a few baby name ideas. Which could take hours.

Watching the movies you want to watch while he rubs your feet lovingly (and a few kisses in between).

Drawing long, luxurious baths for you to relax while he tries his hand at making dinner (emphasis on tries).

Rubbing your tummy and smiling big when he feels a kick before gently and tenderly offering sweet kisses there.

Going shopping with you for baby supplies and comfort food… maybe more comfort food than supplies, but Trent insists on being prepared. Maybe a little over prepared (the man cannot wait to be a father).

Softly singing to the life inside you and to you as well, lulling you to sleep.

You waking up to soft kisses at your tummy and occasional tummy rubs before he rests his head against you there, closing his eyes contentedly and smiling peacefully.

Him cuddling you close to his chest as you wake up and nuzzling your neck, murmuring in your ear how great of a mother you will be and kissing you some more while the sun rises.

 


	149. Manznor Daddy Kink

So here’s what’s going to happen, baby doll. You’re going to lay back, relax, spread those legs for me. Open yourself up real good. That’s it. Nice and slow. Wider. Let me see you.

Trent practically groans aloud, does as he’s told, sliding up onto the mattress and spreading his white thighs, completely naked and nearly mewling like a whore.

Brian hums appreciatively and lets out a low, droning growl at the fucking sight of him splayed out on the bed like that. Like a kitten. Good boy. Good, good boy. Trent purrs at the praise given and stretches out, bucking his hips up at him and raising his arms up and over his head, gripping the rungs of the headboard. That’s when Brian decides to get up on the bed with him, crawling into position in between his legs and hoisting them up at his hips, allowing them to rest there while he runs a single finger down his chest and tummy. Trent sucks in a breath at that, eyeing him with those pretty green eyes of his, literally begging for him silently.

You want Daddy’s cock in you, baby boy?

Yes.

Can’t really hear you, love. Speak up.

Please, Brian! Please! I need your cock inside me.

At this point, Brian rolls his hips, rubbing the tip of his leaking cock along Trent’s prepped ass and stroking his thumbs into his sides in small, loving, protective circles. Yeah, you want my cock? Daddy’s gonna make you feel so, so good. Daddy’s gonna have you screaming for more, just for me.

Trent promptly moans at that and undulates his hips at Brian’s lubed up cock until he feels it slowly start to push in, stretching him to the limit, feeling the friction that comes with it. It’s a familiar feeling to him, something he’s anticipating, but he still manages to moan like a whore, writhing in the bedsheets and against the pillows at his head, his wild dark hair looking more wilder than ever in disarray on the mattress. When Brian finally starts to move, Trent’s breaths grow deeper.

That’s it. Breathe into your body. You just want me to take you.

Trent mutters a small expletive under his breath and gives a short cry when he feels Brian reach deeper, further, so skillfully.

Call me ‘daddy’.

Trent can only stammer it before he’s screaming it. Screaming it while Brian pounds in deeper. God, yes, Daddy… harder… Daddy…

Brian smirks. Smirks and fucks into him, holding his arms down, hearing him shriek in pleasure with each thrust. That’s it. Come for Daddy.

And even that alone is enough to have Trent releasing all over himself, squirting out onto his chest and tummy, watching it run down in his high. Trent’s chest heaves once and then he lies still, quivering beneath Brian, who finishes all over him, mixing in with his seed. Brian continues to praise him, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear as he nuzzles his neck before tenderly kissing it.

Did so well for Daddy…


	150. Lesbian Manznor

Marilyn bites down on her lower lip, upsetting the lip ring a little and then leans in for a kiss. She’s happy to know who’s lips she’s kissing, who’s kissing her back. Trent’s mouth is absolute heaven, those pretty, plump, pink lips a treat fit to eat; God only knows what Marilyn longs to do with that mouth or to any other perfect part of Trent’s perfect body. She promptly hums upon feeling the vibrations of Trent moaning on her tongue and pulls away just to look at her, take her in, adore her.

Fuck, you taste delicious.

Despite the evident smirk, Trent blushes deeply and moves in for another quick kiss, instantly crying out when Marilyn pulls her onto her lap and shoves a hand between her legs.

Mm, someone’s wet.

Trent mewls, breath hitching in her throat just as Marilyn softly begins to rub her clit with just her thumb in small, agonizingly slow circles. Through the panties. Nice and slow. Trent leans her head back, mouth parted in a silent moan as the butterflies begin to form. The good kind. The kind that starts deep within her tummy and swells down, like a few small waves that continue to roll over and over again along that certain spot where she desperately needs it. When Marilyn slides one finger inside, Trent can only twitch and whimper, quickly grasping Marilyn’s shoulders at the sweet intrusion and rolling her hips rhythmically with the steady thrusting that one finger can provide. Two makes her squeak, and Marilyn chuckles, attacking her throat with her teeth once she falls back again in pleasure.

You’re so fucking beautiful.

Trent lets out a soft ‘heh’ and then groans inwardly, grasping Marilyn’s face with her hands, stroking those gorgeous high cheekbones with her long piano fingers. She can barely get a chance to murmur a needy ‘fuck me’ before Marilyn has three fingers deep inside her, crooking and straightening and scissoring while that thumb consistently rubs that sensitive bundle of nerves. Eventually the waves begin to crash and Trent moans aloud, sighing out Marilyn’s name until her lips are captured by hers, sloppily.

Marilyn keeps her pinned on her lap, holding her there while she draws out her orgasm, gasping softly as she comes all over her hand. Trent breaks away from her mouth, lips mere centimeters apart as she rides it out, seeing starts right before her heavily lidded eyes. One last sob-like moan and Trent shudders, enjoying the last few sparks and the sweet feeling of Marilyn’s warm breath mingling with hers. Gently, Marilyn removes her fingers from her swollen cunt and brings them to her mouth, tongue flicking out devilishly.

You taste so damn good.

Trent opens her mouth obediently and purrs when her lover pushes all three fingers past her lips, letting her taste herself.

Give us a kiss, baby doll.


	151. Collared

Come on over here, kitten.

Honestly, he couldn’t be more adorable, more _fuckable_. Trent begins to walk over docilely, but you snap your fingers first at him, shaking your head and clicking your tongue, reprimanding, eyebrows raised. Your pet only gives a small whimper before sinking down to his hands and knees obediently, the jingling of the collar mixing in with the sounds of him shuffling on over as fast as he can. You almost giggle down at him struggling, but remain calmly composed, eyeing him like a hawk to prey.

And there he is. Kneeling down at you. Naked. Wide-eyed and waiting. With a black collar around his slender throat, shadowed by his gorgeous mop of dark hair. You crook a finger at him. Closer. He obeys, shifting on his knees and inching further towards you; fuck, his chin could practically rest on your lap while you pet and stroke his hair. You decide you’ll let him do it- later. Instead, with two fingers, you hook them under his collar and give a sharp tug, pulling him in close to meet your gaze. Trent gives a short cry but keeps his eyes on you, desperate, anticipating your next order. You decide to wait a bit, play with him a little longer, tease him. You begin by running your fingers through his hair and then giving him a good, harsh yank. Enough to get him to wince in the sharp pain.

Hard already for me, pet?

He is. Completely. You study his erect cock with a heated gaze as if your eyes are two hot, burning coals ready to brand him. Perhaps the way you look at him keeps him on edge, and to prove it, he bucks his hips up at you, balancing himself with both hands on the floor. You have to admit it. It looks insanely hot what he’s trying to do to get you to get him off, leaning back, chest heaving, lips wet and bitten raw, red and looking so utterly kissable. You take your chance then.

As soon as your boot meets his cock, Trent mewls, loudly, and you gradually begin to rub. Up and down. Up and down. Slowly. Gently. Slightly digging in, grinning once you hear the sharp hiss from between his teeth. You ask him in a soft, low voice if he likes what you’re doing to him right now and you so enjoy the tinkling of the bell at his collar as he wildly nods his head, yes. God, yes. So you keep your fingers hooked under his collar, keep him close while he continues to roll his hips into your boot’s heel.

Trent throws his head back with a throaty sigh, a film of sweat forming over every inch of his pretty body. You can see the freckles on his chest and arms, and god help you if you don’t lean in, tackle him, and lick every single one. He’s practically begging to come, but you want to play with your pet just a little bit more, and so you remove your boot from his throbbing, leaking cock, pleased with the high whine of protest that erupts from his open mouth.

Now, now, kitten, you chastise gently. All good things to those who wait.

If you look into those large, green eyes any longer, you’ll be giving him what he wants.


	152. Breeding and Cuddles

Turn over.

You obey, moving on your back as soon as you feel Trent’s hard cock slide out of you as easy as that.

So wet. I can feel you dripping off my cock, princess. Is that how much you love it? Love my cock inside you?

You nod a little, murmur out a small ‘yeah’, and he grabs your hips, fingernails digging into skin and pulls you forward, legs flailing in the air and moving to rest, crooked at his own hips. He’s sweaty; the two of you had been going for approximately forty five minutes nonstop and you are almost certain he’s come at least twice already. Maybe three times. At times like these, the man could go all day, leaving you filled with his cum and a deliciously aching feeling down between your legs that needs to be satisfied. Filled with his cum, huh? He’s come inside you at least three times. If you weren’t on the pill…

Seems like you want to try for a baby.

Trent instantly looks at you after he hears what you said, and for a moment he seems a bit startled, caught off guard. All it takes to realize what you want is the coy little grin on your face and those large eyes glazed over in lust. A knowing smirk crosses his own face, and you feel his hand first, two fingers stroking you, rubbing his cum that slips out of you between his fingertips. He hums softly, but it nearly sounds like a hungry growl as he quickly thrusts into you. Even after all that, you still don’t feel used to it; he’s that big, filling you up deep. At the impact, you purr for more, and Trent immediately gets up on his knees, pulling your lower half with him. It’s as if he’s gone in even deeper; you watch in awe, practically drooling as he fucking pile drives you into a screaming, moaning mess.

Feel me inside you, kitten?

You groan out the ‘yes’, staring, wide-eyed at the display. The tummy distention is enough, just enough to make you come on the spot despite the fact that he continues to hit your sweet spot right there.

Oh my fuck, Trent growls, watching the way his cock makes your tummy fucking stretch. It’s as if I’m this close to your womb. Spilling inside you deep. Leaving you full, fucked raw. I don’t think you’d mind having my kid, would you?

Just the thought of it makes you keen.

As soon as the both of you come, Trent pulls out, leaving your lower half raised for a bit, grinning wickedly, making you giggle. Just want to make certain… he murmurs. But we could always try again.

After a hot, much needed shower, a few foot rubs, and some tender cuddling later, you snuggle in closer, hands on Trent’s chest, legs wrapped around his hips, lips pressed sweetly against his neck.

So. About that baby…

Trent grins.


	153. Hate Sex

Let’s just say your band and Trent Reznor’s band aren’t on the best of terms.

One jab at yours was enough to make you realize that Trent is a man who says what he thinks with no apologies whatsoever, no regrets. Secretly, you respect the fuck out of that, but this almost seems personal. He thinks your music is shit. You think he’s pretentious. And you have no problem stating it live on MTV, fishnet covered legs crossed, painted fingernails tapping against the armrest of your seat.

Well, Trent supposes he has no problem with making another jab at what you do.

“I’m not going to tell you her music sucks. I know it. You know it. I’m not going to say it.”

You almost wish he would say it, you think to yourself as you stand by the television stone-faced while the rest of your band mates shift uncomfortably at your frustrated, angry silence. Maybe it’s time you give him a taste of his own medicine. Maybe it’s high time you tell him exactly what you think of him. To his face. Maybe make him cry. You’d be the first to make him do that on live tv. What better way to do that than on a joint interview with the fucking man himself?

It’s almost time. And they had the audacity to stick the two of you together, in the same room. Alone. Trent glowers at you, arms crossed, mouth formed in a thin, grim line. You decide to at least try to ignore him, but it’s as if his presence has that much of an attitude as well. It only begins with one insult after another- and he fucking started it! You don’t care how childish you sound in your head; it’s as though he wants to see you anger. There is something very primal about that, that he almost lives off of it, that it enjoys him seeing you all riled up. Hell, one would think he has a fetish for it.

And the moment you shove him against a wall, fingernails digging into his shoulders, prepared to leave as many marks as possible, spitting out an ‘I hate you’, he says it right back, scathingly, vinegar edged in his voice before his lips smash against yours violently, roughly, mixing in tooth and tongue. His soft groans are the honey to his voice, and you find your hands, pressed against his shoulders, move back around his neck, pulling his long hair, long like a lion’s mane. No, you will not say you’ve had these underlying feelings for him; you won’t say it because all that rages on in the back of your head is to _fuck_ and to _fight._

And quite a scene the both of you left behind before you were called to your interview. The table knocked over when he shoved you onto it, tearing your shirt, hiking it up to knead at your tits. Maybe a few dents in the walls when you fought for dominance. The carpet looks a little crooked on the hardwood floor- okay, maybe a lot. He couldn’t stop pounding into you on top of it, snapping his hips abruptly against you, sure to make you scream.

The both of you were nearly caught in the act, but the only thing the crew noticed was how disheveled the room looked compared to ten minutes ago and how wild your hair looked compared to how kept it was before. Even Trent’s. His skin was flushed, his breathing just starting to become even again.

Well fuck, you can see the article headlines.


	154. Reassurance

You are really on the fence about this, and it almost disappoints you that Trent is ready to do this without question. He came up with the idea, and you have always known this is something he has wanted to do in your relationship together. But as open as this relationship is, in terms of sexual tendencies, you don’t think you could ever do a threesome.

That involves another person. Could be someone you don’t know or someone you know completely, and honestly you don’t know which could be worse. You can feel the anxiety play on your heartstrings a bit, because you’re worried if you explain your feelings to Trent, he’ll decide not to listen or he’ll try to convince you otherwise, despite how you feel about the situation altogether. And that is something you don’t want at all. You, at least, hope that if you tell him that that wouldn’t be the case. Trent has stated time and again that you can talk to him about anything, and he meant it, but for some reason, your brain continues to lie to you, breathing down your neck, putting the fear in you that Trent will most definitely become unreasonable.

A threesome involves not only another person, but the person could be male or female. You know that you don’t want to get fucked by another man, and you absolutely, positively know that you don’t want to watch Trent fuck another girl, or get blown by another girl, or get dommed by another girl. Everything about this idea is making you start to see red. And if this is what it’s making you feel, why shouldn’t you explain your fears to Trent? Why shouldn’t he regard your feelings with respect? He’s your boyfriend. He loves you. And perhaps this more encouraging part of your brain screams at you to just fucking tell him.

Trent watches the way your lower lip quivers as you talk, perhaps out of nervousness, perhaps out of the way your body is fighting the urge to cry. Perhaps a combination of both, but he doesn’t just watch you with concern; he listens. Intently. Nods at the right moments. Biting his lower lip when you finally get to what exactly is bothering you about the whole idea in the first place. Then he finally smiles in reassurance once you finish and quickly pulls you into a tight embrace.

At this point, you don’t understand why you were worried at all.

Now it’s Trent’s turn to explain to you that he loves you, so much, so much that of course, he considers your feelings in these situations. If something like a fucking threesome makes you uncomfortable, he looks you dead in the eye, then the both of you don’t have to do it. You don’t have to do anything involving another person. And Trent is okay with that. Because he loves you, he repeats himself. He loves you and respects you and supports you. He supports your decision to say no. He wants you to not worry about coming to him immediately if something is bothering you. His first duty in this relationship is to you and only you. First and foremost. Above everything else.

Because he loves you.


	155. Blue Balls

You want him tonight, so bad; you can feel it tightening in your jeans while you watch him. Trent has stated, though, that he has to work tomorrow: interviews, hours in the studio, that sort of thing, and he doesn’t think he should. You say you would make it quick for him, to which he lets out a playful snort of a laugh. Quick but good, you urge.

But, Trent inquires while pulling down his pants and throwing them somewhere across the room, what would you even do to me if it’s going to be that quick?

You think for a moment, and then it dawns on you that this is not just some rhetorical question. Trent genuinely wants to know as he moves to sit on your lap in one fluid motion. Well, maybe you’d leave a few hickeys on his neck, and you lean in to do so. Trent stops you however, with a hand against your chest. He’s not giving you permission to do anything yet. Just tell him what you would do to him.

You’d work him loose so well on the inside, work him so skillfully with your fingers alone while leaving a trail of bruising kisses along his chest and stomach. Trent grunts at this, and your breath hitches sharply in your throat as you feel him begin to roll his hips on your lap, brushing his clothed sex against yours. What else would you do? You can’t really think clearly at the moment. Trent grinding against you in your lap is sort of making it hard to do so, and your breathing becomes staggered with the friction applied. Trent is unrelenting, but he stares at you intently, silently waiting for you to continue. You watch the small smirk play at his lips and know that he wants to keep you on edge, wants to reduce you to a stuttering, stammering mess.

Maybe you’d just fuck him, you gasp out, worried that you’re going to come in your pants, knowing that that is exactly Trent’s intent. Fuck him raw, leave him all screamed out, begging for more, maybe begging to come again.

Yeah? Trent looks smug and takes your hand in his, moving it under and up his t-shirt. You brush your thumb against his nipples, pleased with the sight of Trent closing his eyes and sucking in air through his teeth, but he still has the upper hand, sending more pleasure straight to where you need it most.

Want to fuck you so bad… you moan into his chest, and Trent smiles smugly down at you, still grinding against your hard bulge, asking if you’re going to come. You nod desperately, grabbing his hips, urging him on. And that’s when Trent decides to stop altogether, making you groan out in protest, snapping your head forward to look at him in disbelief. He merely grins and gets off of you but not without giving you a lengthy, sultry kiss that sends more shivers to your groin.

Bedtime, he states, his smirk growing. Maybe tomorrow.

You swear you could kill him.

What a fucking tease.


	156. Pogo and Trent

Harder! Jesus, fuck-

God, shut the fuck up, Reznor… going as hard as I can… I think I’m gonna come- shit!

Trent only growls under his breath as Stephen continuously rocks his body against the wall, cheek pressed up into it, the cool making him shiver. And yet it’s not the only thing that makes him tremble with need. Stephen’s cock slides in and out of his ready, open hole hungrily, big enough, thick enough to reach deep inside and brush against something that makes Trent scream.

No, you’re not fucking coming yet. More…

Trent lets out a loud groan that Stephen quickly muffles with his hand over his mouth and shakes his head, gaining more force with each thrust. Maybe this will keep you from barking orders at me. God, you’re fucking loud, you needy twink.

Trent doesn’t know whether he wants to punch this asshole or bite his hand and scream for him to go faster. He is already at the edge, ready to blow his load all over the wall, maybe have Stephen clean it up when they are done. Clean it up with his tongue and get his face right in there. Just the thought of that makes Trent smirk to himself, and he holds off just a little bit longer, as long as he can to keep Stephen from coming yet. As though he knows what he is scheming, Stephen reaches down with his free hand to stroke Trent’s cock down, in smooth, fluid strokes.

I’m not waiting anymore, you cute little bitch.

Trent comes a second after, moaning, muffled into his hand, eyes rolling in the back of his head, and after a few more powerful thrusts from Stephen, he finally slows and releases deep inside him with a loud grunt ending in a whimper. Trent smiles to himself, knowing only his ass can make him sound just like that. With a throaty curse, Stephen pulls out of him, removes the condom, and backs away thoroughly spent.

Fuck, Trent, he murmurs, running a hand through his hair. You are such a good lay.

Trent only turns around, back against the wall, a tired, dreamy grin forming on his face. I know, he shrugs. Clean my spunk off the wall and I’ll suck your dick. Get you off one more time.

Stephen can’t help but grin as well. Everything with him is a price. He just wants to humiliate him, make him realize he’s not just some big, bad dom. But he can’t say no to getting his cock sucked, especially by the notorious Michael Trent Reznor.

We making this just a one time thing? Stephen inquires while getting on his knees in front of Trent’s mess.

Trent smiles down at him, running a hand through his hair sweetly before pushing him forward.

I’ll have to think about it.


	157. Under the Red Witch's Spell

But-

Tori brings just the tip of her finger to Trent’s lips and shushes him gently, and at the sound of her soothing voice, Trent quiets, eyelids fluttering coyly, watching the two of you advance on him. Tori grabs his face and pulls him towards her, lips pressing against his sweetly, almost innocently. The both of you can hear him breathing against her mouth, but you decide to break the innocence of the kiss by placing your hand ever-so-slightly against his clothed crotch. Instantly, Trent bucks his hips up and breaks from Tori’s lips to stare down at you wide-eyed.

Relax, Tori tells him, her voice remaining even, almost as if placing him in a trance. He remains obedient just by hearing her voice, and you continue ministering to the growing heat in his groin, smiling upon hearing a low, muffled moan come from above. That smile widens to a full-fledged grin as Trent spreads his legs further apart, so you apply more pressure, practically kneading his growing bulge with your palm. Trent’s breath hitches in his throat, his large, green eyes desperate, begging, but Tori brings his attention back to her, purring orders at him before offering one last sultry kiss.

Compliantly and with a small, satisfied noise, Trent scoots further on the bed and lies back, waiting as patiently as he can, but you know that that won’t last as you watch him fucking grow through his underwear. You hum in approval and wait for Tori’s nod before moving your head down, lips first, mouthing wetly at Trent’s clothed member. A loud groan breaks from Trent before he has the chance to cover his mouth and stifle it. Tori, however, moves his hands away, pinning them down above his head in another impressive show of dominance and plants a heated kiss against his throat.

We want to hear every sound you make, love. Moan for us.

A hushed curse erupts from Trent’s wet mouth upon feeling your lips wrap around his shaft through his underwear, tongue flicking out, making rude sucking sounds. He nearly gives a loud cry once you pull his hard cock out and envelope him into your mouth whole, choking a bit once he starts to fuck in and out of you. Tori giggles at his desperation to come already and then tells you to stop, giggling some more at Trent’s cute, little noise of protest.

You can come once we do.

Trent stares at the both of you pleadingly, but his eyes widen for the hundredth time watching you mount his aching cock and slowly sink down. Tori takes her turn over his face next, and Trent practically groans, breathing in her sent and laving his tongue over her sex. Giving a small cry of pleasure, Tori begins to ride his face, letting him grip her hips.

Good boy. Such a good boy for us.


	158. Hit Me, Daddy

Lifting Trent from onto his back to his front is nothing at all to you, and with the ropes in your fists, you sneer to think that they will be giving him more of a rope burn in this position. Trent gives a short cry of slight pain that seems like music to your ears and lies obediently still, face pressed into the ground unwillingly though he remained in this position on his front. You think he looks absolutely beautiful all strung up in these white ropes that encircle and dig into his pale flesh, around his neck, chest, shoulders, arms, just snug underneath his balls and around his buttocks. How utterly adorable.

Earlier he had regarded it in the mirror, turning this way and that, swaying his hips a little, loving how they looked against the rope.

Now Trent lays in bondage with his hands behind his back, face down, whining for Daddy. You observe his white ass below your gaze, leering down at him and casually bringing down your flogger against his soft skin. Trent jumps once, rutting his naked groin against the plush carpet, grateful that it’s soft faux fur and not the hard wood of the floor. Watching him hump like an animal makes you palm yourself through your latex, and you give a low growl before demanding your next order.

Call me Daddy again.

Trent obeys, a bit muffled through the carpet, but you can tell he’s desperate for more of the delicious pain that you inflict on his perfect body.

He screams it suddenly when you come a little too hard down on his cute ass, and for a moment you almost think you should stop just to make sure his color hasn’t changed, but he’s still green. Green and laughing through the pain, laughing in a stuttering way, like he’s sobbing as well. Trent turns his head to the side, practically drooling onto the soft carpet and begging breathlessly for you to hit him again.

Hit me please, Daddy…

You want to see the look on his face when you do, and so you turn him on his back roughly, setting him into place and observing him intensely before continuing. You love watching the broken and uneven rise and fall of his chest, the small patch of hair catching the lamplight, his nipples hardening against the cool air of the room. You bring down the flogger numerous times on his flesh, and his pleasured cries for pain urge you on, watching his skin turn bright pink, then rosy red. The sting is what he relishes, and he almost bucks his hips up so you can hit his aching cock with it.

Yes, Daddy…

You pause, brooding silently for a moment, wondering what you could do with your little plaything next.

You want to come for Daddy?

Just watching Trent’s perfect green eyes light up in an entrancing mix of ecstasy and glee is enough for you to smack him around a few more times before dropping the flogger and rubbing your boot against his growing sex. Trent fucking purrs at that.


	159. Elevator Sex

It is a rainy day today. Foggy, humid and misty. Absolutely not the type of weather you were expecting to spend the day with Trent, and you’re a bit disappointed. The two of you had booked a room for the night before he was to go on tour, just to spend with each other, alone, no other responsibilities to bother the two of you. It was going to be utterly perfect. And now here you are, running to escape the onslaught of rain, but it attacks you in pellets, the droplets the size of marbles. In minutes the two of you are soaked through your clothes.

Are you even wearing a bra?

Shut up and get inside!

You shove Trent nearly into the forming mud, ignoring his laughter, and bound up the stairs towards the double doors of the hotel. It’s warmer inside, but the both of you are more than eager to get to your room to dry off, wrap yourself in blankets, cuddle with some cocoa. Maybe something else. Thankfully no one else is around to witness your shenanigans, and you both rush to the elevator, pushing the button incessantly, shivering miserably. Inside, it’s quiet, no one in there either, and the only sound to be heard is you and Trent’s ragged breathing.

It seems you’re both cold and impatient to get to your room. Top floor… All Trent has to do is look at you once with those eyes before he has you up against the wall of the elevator, lips smashed against yours hungrily, breathing hotly into your mouth, letting it mingle with yours. You moan softly against him, giving a slight squeak once you feel his wet hands reach up and underneath your soaked camisole, dragging it with them. Trent gives your exposed breasts a greedy squeeze before you’re breaking away from his mouth, asking him uncertainly, only one word.

Here?

Trent grins wickedly, playfully, and the both of you fumble with each others zippers and pants. He pulls yours down abruptly to your knees, ushering another small squeak from you and hoists you up, legs at his hips, guiding his hard cock into you swiftly. You can only gasp before his sweet lips are on yours again, muffling your sharp cries successfully while his cock begins a steady thrusting in and out of you.

The elevator door dings once, and the both of you freeze in horror.

After much scrambling and shushing, the two of you stand side by side, attempting to appear as casual as possible while waiting for your floor. One can’t help but notice however, how disheveled your hair looks, or how wild his is as he had just finished tucking himself back into his pants. You had quickly pulled your tank down back into place before any of the people saw as they walked inside. Trent and you exchange looks and small grins, trying desperately not to laugh outright in the middle of the elevator. You only sober once you feel his hand make its way down towards your ass, giving it a good squeeze and a pat.

Let’s just pick up where we left off once we get to our room, hmm?


	160. Desk Sex

Late again, Reznor.

Sorry, sir.

This is how it always is. Brian comes to work, gets his computer up and running, grabs a tea, answers phone calls, thinks about his next column for his local issue of the 25th Parallel…

And his intern is always late.

Sometimes Trent has an excuse. His parents were fighting again. They ignore him. Rehearsal for band practice or the school musical let him out later than usual. Then most of the time, he has no excuse, barges in red-faced, maybe a little sullen, trying not to make eye contact with his frankly terrifying-looking boss. And Brian simply sighs and returns to his desk but not before issuing out orders for today and expecting Trent to take them without a word. Shit, he knows the kid doesn’t want to be a writer. He’s eighteen. He plans on graduating, maybe pursuing college, but most likely chasing that dream of being a musician. Well, maybe he’s a different kind of writer.

This time, Brian decides not to let it slide. He calls Trent over, asks him why he’s late, to which Trent snaps out an answer. He can definitely lose the attitude.

Do you even enjoy working here? Or is this some fucking burden for you?

Now Brian is getting angry, frustrated. He’s dealt with interns with shoddy workmanship before, but Trent is different. Trent is an enigma. And again Trent shoots back with another answer just as abrupt, edged, and Brian almost swears he can just lean Trent over his desk right now and wail into his ass. Maybe a good fucking spanking will make him watch his mouth when talking to his boss. He stops himself with this thought, nearly shaking his head to rid himself of it. What the hell was he just thinking?

I don’t know, Trent, he finally sighs, frustrated with himself now more than his young intern. What do you want to do? You want to keep this job?

Oh no, Trent replies with just a hint of sarcasm. His face is bland, expressionless.

No, I want to blow you.

Brian is taken aback by this statement he never thought he’d hear his own intern say to him. There’s only one long minute of agonizing silence between them before Trent quickly closes the gap, grabbing Brian’s shirt in large fistfuls and pressing his lips, smashing them against his full ones. Brian stumbles back into his chair, Trent coming down with him, landing in his lap while he continues to wildly kiss him. As soon as he feels Trent’s tongue enter his mouth, Brian hastily pulls away, pushes Trent away in shock. That fucking smirk is all it takes, all it takes for Brian to lose the last bit of reason from his mind as he grabs Trent around his small waist, hauls him onto the desk on his back, holding him down and kissing him back as avidly as before. The little thought that tells him to stop, he ignores it, and Trent’s hands burrowing into the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer, urges him on.

He doesn’t know how it happened.

Trent is on his stomach on his fucking desk, head turned to the side, making the most obscene, adorable noises Brian has ever heard. He bites down hard on his fist in attempts to muffle the sweet sounds but only manages to cry out even louder when Brian finds a certain spot inside him he has never found before.

He very nearly stops next.

Daddy… Harder…

Brian does stop this time, and Trent’s face instantly reddens before he’s yelling at him to keep going. Just fuck him, goddamnit. And when Brian finally comes, hard, Trent goes silent, just rests against the desk while his boss removes the condom and tucks himself back into his pants.

Do you need me to…? I mean… don’t you want to get off as well?

If he could just stop stammering for one goddamn minute. Brian wants to kick himself.

Trent only shakes his head and walks out, straight to his own desk, leaving his boss, who he just let fuck him, with the aftermath of the events that occurred.

He doesn’t know if he’d want to do it again, but the memory of Trent’s lips on his neck leaves him wanting more.


	161. Big Love

The moment Trent can get you down on your back on the bed is the moment he enters heaven. The moment he first laid eyes on you he knew he wanted you and no one else. And it wasn’t simply your amazing and down to earth personality that caught him by a delightful surprise. Your body made his hands itch for you, made his lips long to trail across every inch of your skin. To some people, rudeness seemed like the only answer when pertaining to your size, rudeness or ignorance or both. But Trent was different, and that helped you believe that not everyone was quick to judgmental tendencies.

Trent loves your size, how big you are; you’re full and round with large, perfect tits and an ass that makes his mouth water in hunger for you. How he longs to taste you just to see what kind of noises you’d make. You smell amazing to him, like peaches and cream, and he wants to see if you taste exactly like that, sweet and soft and smooth.

First, Trent counts your stretch marks, stroking you with his piano fingers, and then he kisses each one along your tummy, hips, and legs. You sigh in bliss at the feeling of his lips caressing your flesh lovingly, hearing him mumble in between at how beautiful you are to him, how he could kiss you all day just so you know how much he loves you. His hands find your breasts, and you moan as he kneads them with a greedy yet endearing look in his eyes. He places his lips over each, and your moans grow louder as he sucks on your nipples, loving you with his mouth and hands, not letting you out of his grasp. His tongue licks a stripe up between them before he moves slowly down, peppering kisses along your belly. You reel at the deep groan that falls from his lips and spread your legs further apart as he makes his way toward where you really need him. One long, lick up your cunt is enough to have you squealing for more. Only he can make you feel this good.

I love every inch of you.

Trent says this to you after he’s finished making love to you. He falls against you, breathing in your scent and resting his head against your chest. He wraps his arms around your waist and holds you close.


	162. Proposal (with a side of The Office Inspiration)

Trent tells you he’s going to propose to you, but he doesn’t tell you when or how:

  * Everyday it feels like he could do it, get down on one knee and make you the happiest person in the world.
  * He subtly drops little hints, how amazing it would be to live together officially, how he can finally look forward to your cooking and kisses everyday, etc.
  * You know he teases you, but you try to brace yourself for when the moment of no return finally arrives.
  * He could do it any moment.
  * Sometimes he tricks you, asks you to stop and wait as he slowly goes down on one knee.
  * You stop and stare, wide-eyed, holding your breath, prepared to cover your mouth with your hands in case you’re ready to squeal in glee.
  * But he merely explains he needs to tie his shoe with a shit-eating grin on his face.
  * “Fucker” you mutter before turning on your heel and leaving him while he chuckles playfully.
  * But then he finally does it.
  * Calmly slides that small box your way before brushing his fingers over your own as the both of you watch the sunset.
  * You can hardly believe it as your eyes light up with joy while he makes his way down on one knee (the right way).
  * Asks you that one little question that could change everything.
  * Smiles waiting for an answer and looking almost shocked when you say yes, bring him to his feet and kiss him, long and close.
  * It’s as if he never thought he could be enough for you.
  * But he is everything to you and now you will spend the rest of your life with him.
  * You couldn’t be happier.
  * You make him the happiest man alive just by saying that one little word.




	163. Thigh Riding

Trent opens his legs and pats his thigh with a quick grin, waiting for you to come closer. He’s not going to wait all day, and so you inch closer, reaching for his spread legs and promptly sitting down in his lap, shifting a little, only in your underwear, making sure Trent knows exactly how aroused you are already.

Trent sucks in a breath and instantly grabs your hips in his large strong hands, rubbing circles into your skin and succeeding in causing goosebumps to form. You shiver a bit, gazing down at him and wet your lips a little, watching where his hands move to next. Your breath hitches in your throat as he starts moving his thumb in small circles elsewhere, and you begin to whimper, placing your shaking hands on his shoulders, gripping them hard like pincers.

In a soft, husky voice, Trent tells you to come on, ride him, you know you want to.

You rock your hips against his thigh, sliding your sex along his leg, moaning at the friction the feeling of his jeans offer you. Feels so damn good; you speed up, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back as soon as you begin to feel the small waves of pleasure form deep in the pit of your gut. Trent loves the sounds you make when you’re trying to get off. Soft, high-pitched, desperate sounds as if your were bouncing up and down on his hard, stiff cock, begging, just begging to come, release all over his sex. That’s when Trent decides to move you himself, grasping your hips even harder and positioning you to move back and forth along his thigh.

The sound of both of your breaths mingle in the open air; Trent almost sounds as desperate and pitiful as you are at the moment. He can’t wait to see you come, watch your face twist in pleasure. And all the while he continues to encourage you, keep rocking those hips, baby. God, he wishes you were riding his face right now.

You mewl and bite your lip, and that image alone sends Trent growling predatorily, fingernails digging into your skin as he shifts in his seat, moving into a position so that he can still move you up and down on his leg. Feeling daring, your hand snakes out to grope at his crotch, and you give a light squeeze while you grind on him, pleased with the low moan that breaks from his perfect lips. Everything feels hot, like a heatwave has just washed over you, and your eyes start to lull back into your head, eyelashes fluttering, hips still moving wildly, wildly like you can’t get enough of him.

You feel as though you are about to burst and wrap your arms a little tighter around his neck, fingernails clawing, pulling at his hair, and you give a short cry as you come, chest heaving, entire body twitching and writhing against him. Feeling your own legs shake, you whine and press your face into his neck, stilling your body as you continue to quiver. All the while, Trent praises you in a hushed, throaty voice.

Good baby. That’s it. Fuck, did so well…

 

 


	164. "Man of the House"

On your knees, baby… That’s a good boy.

You watch Trent obey you with glittering eyes, his own large green ones gazing up at you docilely, waiting patiently for his next order.

Mommy’s been extra lonely this week, and I think it’s high time you take your role as man of the house.

You watch Trent shift in this role play; he loves it when you take the honorific of ‘mommy’ just as much as when he’s fucking that tight pussy of yours. Perhaps he loves this more. Made to be the baby slave. Just the good boy. Nothing more but Mommy’s precious boy. No, he loves it, loves to be humiliated, told what to do. And at that moment, you press him close to your chest in a tight, somewhat endearing embrace, his face smothered by your tits while you caress and stroke his hair. You nearly bite back a scream when you feel his mouth at your nipples, sucking and biting as his hands find your waist, wrapping his arms around you.

Think you can do that for me, baby?

He only nods, wildly; you laugh gently at his eagerness and after he wipes his mouth, he moves down towards your spread legs, hot breath hovering over your dripping sex. You moan upon feeling that tongue flick out and lave its way up your cunt, almost losing yourself at that all too familiar sensation. Except that smooth little fucker didn’t ask for your permission.

Grabbing him by his long mop of hair, you settle your gaze to meet Trent’s, wagging your finger at him, clicking your tongue. All that in good time, but you want to do something a little more entertaining. And just the sight of this cute little twink presenting his prepped and plugged ass to you sends you reeling. Lube dripping, strap-on out, you grin, bending him over, elbows pressed into the mattress, ass up, that mess of hair shadowing over his eyes while he begins to pant and beg. Trent is practically drooling while you pound into him, thrusting that toy into his tight, needy little hole.

What? Man of the house doesn’t mean you wear the pants in the relationship! It simply means you’re a man now- not some simpering, horny little boy. And Mommy has needs, baby boy.

Trent can only moan and whine, those cute, adorable noises muffled against the pillows and sheets. With one hand pinning his wrists behind his back, your other hand grasps a handful of his beautiful hair, holding his head back as you continue to fuck him senseless, leaving him screaming, writhing, shaking. Each echoing slap of your hips hitting his ass is like a fucking ear-gasm to your building euphoria. And every ‘mommy’ that escapes his quivering lips leaves you growling for more while you raw him into submission.

Go ahead and come for Mommy, baby doll.


	165. Machine

And here…

Trent waves his arm to indicate the next room the both of you enter.

This is where the real fun begins.

You didn’t actually think he would ever let you into this room on the set. Sure, it was entertaining and intriguing exploring nearly all the aspects to his nightmare of hellish enslavement to the worries of the world, that is, of “Broken” (all that, except for his little snuff film), but you know you had been itching to see this particular room. That of the machine. Where the slaves have screamed. Where nearly all of it is real. A ghoulish and grotesque and stimulatingly horrifying portrayal of the mindlessness of the earth and all of its inhabitants.

The machine or chair or whatever it is stands in the middle, ominously presented in the shadows of the dimly lit chamber, illuminated by only the candles as Trent lights them, showing off his most terrifying creation to you with something of a small smirk. Your heart gives a dull thump at just the mere sight of it. This device actually (and consensually) tortured a man for the public’s viewing, and not nearly everyone knew that it was in fact real. You remember asking Trent if the man was dead, if his ground remains lie in some wasted garden. Of course not, he replies with a soft laugh. He doesn’t want to go to jail. And even though you already knew the answer, you cannot help but give a sigh of relief.

Whatever made the man you love create something like this out of his own head is beyond you. He’s managed to combine the woes of pain and suffering with the throes of sexual passion and leave the audience amazed, aroused, or maybe even horrified.

Perhaps you’re feeling a bit of all three.

Want to show me how it works?

Trent has to do a double take, blinking at your words before you giggle outright, muttering a ‘just kidding’ to calm him down. But that doesn’t stop him, now does it?

Perhaps not, you think as he backs you up into the chair itself, allowing you to feel the cool, smooth surface of the seat.

You have to be naked first.

Trent’s hands grip the armrests on either side of you, pinning you in, almost flush against his own warm body. You can fucking smell him, hearing him breathing above, and you cannot help but realize how terrified and aroused you are at the sudden change of atmosphere. And you welcome it, wondering what exactly Trent has up his sleeve next.

Think you can handle it?

Of course you can’t. You know it. Not for real. But you stare back boldly, watching the lust cloud his eyes and hear your own heart pound so loudly it reaches your ears like a dull roar. One hand on your stomach, and you begin to feel those gentle, pleasurable shivers, curl and fold down to where you need them. Trent grins, sensing your reaction.

All right then, kitten.


	166. The "Very" Social Network

Trent lays you down gently, the both of you already naked and laid bear, bodies pressed together hotly as if they were always meant to be that way, close, warm, soft, real. He places one long, sultry kiss upon your eager lips, nibbling at your lower lip gently before pulling away to gaze down at you. You whimper at the loss of him, see him smirk at you, open-mouthed, the corners upturned, and then he’s lowering himself down, arms locked at either side of your head, letting his mouth leave a trail of tingling kisses across your quivering flesh.

He starts with your breasts, hands tenderly caressing them, giving them a light squeeze. He seems pleased with the heaving sigh that escapes your lips at his ministrations and brushes his lips over both your nipples but doesn’t linger there for long. And the sensation of the beginnings of his beard tickles you just a little bit, making you almost want to giggle outright despite how aroused you already are. Soon enough, Trent moves his body down, pressing hot, wet kisses along your tummy until he approaches the spot that makes you want to scream for him.

What he does next you don’t expect.

A small yelp breaks from your parted lips as Trent fucking Reznor gets on his knees on the bed and hoists your lower half up abruptly, legs in the air, ankles resting on his shoulders, ass against his chest while his hands smooth down your thighs to your sides before placing themselves firmly on your hips. Quite a compromising position, yet it exhilarates you and you mewl softly for him, nearly screaming when you finally feel his tongue.

Trent lowers his mouth down on you, laving his tongue up your cunt in one slow, long lick. You love the way it feels against you, soft, wet, warm, making you curl your toes on his shoulders, fisting the sheets with your hands. You practically writhe when he does it again and continues to do it before flicking his tongue out in quick, little teasing gestures over your clit. That alone makes you squeal loudly, even louder when he bites down on it playfully before sucking on it like it’s the nectar of the gods. You’re begging for more, moaning for it, moaning his name, screaming it as Trent uses his tongue to fuck into you, repeatedly, mercilessly. Your thighs shake as he does so, back arching as he hits your spot right there with fingers and tongue. The scruff of his beard rubs along your inner thigh as he practically buries his face deep between your legs.

The sound of his fucking groans as he tastes you almost makes you come on the spot, but you hold back, just for him, just for his cock. You manage to roll your hips into his face, keening as Trent grips your hips even harder, fingernails digging deep into your flesh. At this point, you’re so close to coming that you begin to beg, plead for mercy. You need his cock. Now.

Trent manages to pull away, lips glistening from you, and wipes his mouth while lowering you back down with something of a smirk.

What’s the magic word, kitten?


	167. Groupie's Dream

Wake up, sleeping beauty.

You begin to stir and slowly crack your eyes open eventually, the events of last night eventually returning to your muddled memory. You’re obviously hungover; perhaps you blacked out, but one thing is for certain: Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails is staring back at you, watching you wake up.

You’ve been out for a while. And I want to actually have some fun for a bit.

It doesn’t take long for you to realize that you are in a hotel room, lying on a bed, Trent’s bed, and staring back at the rockstar that you have always adored, have always been infatuated with. Your clothes from the night before are still on you which means that he left you there to sleep. Even still, his eyes ask you for permission. He waits, though there is a little glimmer of playfulness in his eyes. Perhaps you manage to mumble something, maybe your permission, and before you know it, Trent is grinning down at you, moving in closer, reaching out a hand to tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear.

Why don’t you spread your legs for me, baby doll? You had no problem doing that when you were whoring yourself all over me last night.

You obey without a word but with a small whimper in response, watching his grin widen into a pleased smirk.

That’s right, kitten. You just lie there. Let me do all the work.

You blush at his pet names he gives you. He seems so soft and sweet, but the urgency he uses to spread your legs even wider makes your heart pound and your blood race. In the best way. Trent leaves you there for a moment only to return with handcuffs, a bottle of lube, and a pair of latex gloves. The cool metal of the handcuffs around your wrists makes you shiver, and you watch him closely, anticipating what he’ll do next, watching him finger the hem of your skirt.

This is cute, he murmurs, voice like honey. I’ll leave it on. But this…

Trent runs two hands down your clothed sex, toying with the strap of your black thong.

...this needs to go.

With one sharp tug from his gloved hands, Trent breaks the straps and abruptly removes your underwear, smirking at the tiny squeak that erupts from your quivering lips. You can’t believe it: Trent Reznor, manhandling you this way, looking at you like you’re the fucking feast he has been waiting for. He feels you first, those same two fingers rubbing your slit, thumb stroking over your clit. Seems like you’re already wet enough, he decides and puts the lube to the side before advancing on you again.

Before you know it, one long finger slips inside, his finger, Trent fucking Reznor’s finger and you let out a moan, that one needy sound evolving into a high-pitched squeal as his free hand comes down on your thigh.

Keep quiet. They can probably hear you down the hall.

A second finger enters you without hesitation, and Trent applies his thumb, rubbing it in slow, agonizing circles around your swollen clit. You try so, so hard not to make a single goddamn sound but he is relentless, fingers pumping in and out of you, his other gloved hand gripping your leg, holding it up, the smooth latex melding with the skin of your thigh. Trent only pulls his fingers out of you to get a taste of you, and from the looks of it, it seems as though he is enjoying it, enjoying you.

How about if I use my mouth, sweetheart?


	168. Morning Sex

It’s just standing up as straight as a pole, making the covers tent out over it, and as soon as Trent cracks opens his eyes, reaches out, and simply touches it with the tip of his finger, he flinches and breathes out, eyebrows raised at the sensitivity.

You feel him poking you in the back with it as his hands reach around and over, grabbing your tits eagerly, and you yawn carelessly, smiling playfully before you open your eyes. He’s hornier than you thought, and you turn to face him, simpering, the corners of your mouth curled up in a sleepy grin. You know exactly what he wants, and gently, you kiss his perfect nose and move down, tonguing at his mouth, requesting entrance. He accepts, even more eager with his lips than his hands, though his hands follow suit, wrapped around your waist, moving down to grip your ass, giving it a good squeeze, forcing a small, muffled squeak out of you.

You mind helping me out here?

Trent gestures sheepishly to his fully erect length, and before he knows it himself, you have him pinned on his back, staring up at you wide-eyed, worried that he could already come any fucking minute now due to your unexpected dominance in bed.

Of course.

Trent shudders, lets his lips be pressed with yours, and then watches you take control, something you find you enjoy especially with him. Trent Reznor is submissive at heart. And you love that about him. Makes what you’ll attempt next even more fun. Raising his arms over his head and gripping the head board, Trent lowers his head to watch you as you slowly, gradually, torturously move your entire body down, down, down, arms locked, back arched, ass up, allowing him to fully, officially enjoy the view. The last bit of your face he sees, namely your smirk, instantly disappears beneath the covers and sheets as your body gently rustles them. You settle into place between his already spread thighs, hear him sigh and groan above you, and slowly you breathe a hot breath over his sex.

Trent bucks his hips up in a needy way only a little, and an even wider grin breaks out over your face at how restless he is already. Maybe you’ll make him wait considering he interrupted your much needed sleep.

What fun that would be.

Slowly, gradually, you lower your head, lower your mouth, part your lips, take in only his head, sucking softly, sweetly, just gently, playfully teasing. Then inch by torturous fucking inch you take him in deeper, drawing him in as if he holds the nectar of the gods in his goddamn balls. You feel him finally hit the back of your throat, hear him groan at that, and you hollow your cheeks, just to make him suffer just a little bit longer. Trent’s breaths quicken, his chest heaves, and you giggle slightly, knowing exactly what you do to him.

Fuck, you hear him growl from up above you.

You smile around his cock.


	169. Manznor High School AU

Trent is well-liked and outspoken. Probably someone who has made it in the school newspaper or a couple of times in the yearbook. Maybe got a bunch of signatures. He’s a leader and a visionary, a promising student under the watchful gaze of scrutinizing intellectual authority. He tries hard. Maybe too hard. He does his best, works himself to the limit, does it to impress, maybe to get them to listen, and in return he receives a pat on the back- nothing more really. But deep down, deep down inside this bright and ambitious young man is someone who feels all alone, someone huddled against the wall, wrapped in his own intrusive thoughts, intrusive thoughts that have really always been there, plaguing his mind. Girls, identity, trust, school, his future. Sometimes it threatens to consume him, maybe even break down his walls of anxiety and expose him to those same watchful eyes, so they can see him for who he really is. Someone scared. Someone alone.

Brian is frightening and angst-driven. Probably someone who has nearly gotten in trouble with the law rather than just school authority. Dildo in the desk of a Bible studies teacher. Always coming home to a crying mother and an empty home with an empty heart. He’s a broken kid in a broken home, the poster child of what happens to kids that are different than the rest. The black sheep. The “Satanist” they call him, but if they only knew him… He’s given up on that idea, gave up on it years ago after the bullies and the peer pressure and the fights and the scars. Everything. Deep down inside him though, there is the one idea of standing up, to fight, to scream in their faces of just what he has suffered. Make them see. Make them cry. And then he’ll be free.

Trent and Brian know of each other. Never talked. Never bothered to look at one another for more than a second. Trent’s friends call him “Satanist” and “freak”. Brian’s friends call him “mommy’s boy” and “God’s little gift” though scathingly. And perhaps that is what made them hate each other unexpectedly. Two completely different individuals sitting on opposite ends of the cafeteria until that one push. Maybe it’s Brian’s boot he sticks out while Trent’s walking, causing him to trip, drop his tray, fall right on his face. Maybe it’s Chris Vrenna, Trent’s best friend standing up immediately to lunge after Brian and his friends in a final fit of rage. Maybe one of them calls Trent a “faggot” while the other side calls Brian a “sick freak”, and then Trent advances on Brian, face nearly as red as the blood pouring from his nose, and the fight only continues until two teachers pull them off each other.

Detention is not exactly where they think they’d finally get to know each other.

Trent sniffs, feeling the drying blood crusting over in his nostrils. Brian crosses and uncrosses his long legs, silently fuming but at what again? He can’t remember and it makes him more disappointed in himself than angry. He looks over at Trent, a small kid but someone who looks like he doesn’t take shit from anyone. Oddly enough, Brian finds he admires that in him. Trent turns himself, sees a kid with freshly dyed hair and a piercing in his lower lip, but he sees it tremble slightly, notices the faded scars on his arms.

I’m sorry I tripped you.

Noted… I’m sorry I punched you.

You can really lay it on me, I’ll give you that.

Brian sees the beginnings of a smirk forming on Trent’s face, and he can’t help but enjoy the way the sunlight hits his dark auburn hair.

Perhaps it’s time they introduced themselves more formerly.


	170. Wet

You watch his boots first, walking slowly yet surely up to the microphone and even then you’d rather have them walking somewhere else. It’s the signature look. The one that screams “daddy”. A pair of shades, that leather jacket, and those fucking boots. If he could just rub your pussy with them, you know you’d be the one screaming “daddy”.

The light show starts.

His voice is much deeper than it used to be, and at times you can hear him crack a little, but his voice is just as powerful and raw, maybe more. He purrs into the microphone, growls into it, letting out grunts and screams and pure notes of all that he has written himself, all that he has gone through, and you simply watch. Staring at him with a needy look in your eyes. Desperate. He’s perfect and you know it. And that voice of his, like honey and vinegar draws you in, at times cloudy and deep, at other times scratching and harsh. It’s all beautiful to you, and you hear yourself give a slight groan at the sight of him, watching him go, watching him shed his jacket with hungry eyes now and reach for that goddamn tambourine.

You’re standing off along the sidelines backstage, watching him throw a water bottle into the crowd, hearing one random girl scream, and knowing full well that you are the only one going home with him tonight. Because he’s yours. And just that fact alone makes you even wetter than you already are.

Oh of course. You’re wet and you look down automatically, wishing you were entirely alone with him so you could touch yourself, have him watch, perhaps have him participate. Honestly you prefer his beautiful piano fingers to your own, and another wave of desperation and lust surges through you, making you moan audibly. He can’t hear you. But he will soon after.

Wet, huh?

Trent smirks, wiping his face off with a towel and eyes you inquiringly. You bite your lip and nod, letting out a loud squeak when you feel your back hit the wall. He’s taken the upper hand, decided that enough is enough. His kitten needs to be touched. His kitten needs to be played with.

Daddy… you whimper, staring up at him.

Soaking wet and all you had to do was watch me up there. I really get you off just by being near you, don’t I?

Please-

The arm against your throat keeps you from continuing to beg.

Enough, kitten. Daddy’s going to take care of you. But first, I wanna feel how wet you are for me.


	171. Exotic Birds and Bees

Did you get your ear pierced?

Trent fingers the long, dangly earring almost fondly, a small smile growing on his face as he quickly unbuttons his shirt. Those freckles all over his chest… You want to kiss and count each one all over his skin, across his chest and arms. He hardly has any hair growing on his chest, still young, still fresh, and tentatively you reach out to touch him there while he fumbles with the hem of your blouse. The sweet scent of sweat from the show prior still lingers in the air, over his body, and you can already feel the heat radiating off of him, mingling with you as both of your hands catch some of it.

Yeah, you like it?

You smirk. You think he would look better with both ears pierced. Perhaps he’ll think about it, he says as he abruptly shoves you against the wall.

Gasping, you feel his body slide in between your spread thighs, feel his hand grasp your panties, pull them to the side roughly, eagerly before he slides himself in. You let out another gasp, feeling him so deep inside you, up to the hilt, hearing his pants drop, reaching over and behind to grasp his ass. It almost wills him in deeper, and Trent rolls his hips slowly into you, ushering out a long, high-pitched moan and whimper from your parted, wet, eager lips. Trent’s mouth captures yours, muffling your sweet sounds while he gently fucks you against the wall where you both can still hear the roar of the crowd. You feel so good around him, you hear him growl into your ear and suddenly every goosebump pops, fans out over your trembling flesh.

Look me in the eyes.

You obey, catching those green ones staring right back at you, lust clouding, glazing over them, making it absolutely known he means every word of what he breathes over you. Your hands find his neck, wrap your arms around it before reaching up to gather fistfuls of his fluffy, wild auburn hair in you hands. You pull when he thrusts in again and promptly whine as he fills you up. You can practically feel that hot pre-cum reaching your womb, know that he’s getting close, closer to the edge of releasing deep inside you. You urge him on, pull his pretty hair a little harder this time, feel his hands grip your hips at that, sure to leave fingerprints, bruises into your skin.

Faster… Please, Trent…

It’s as though your begging, your pleading for his thick cock tells him to fucking do it. With one short cry that evolves slowly, gradually into a satiated growl, Trent finally comes inside you, both hands slammed against the wall on either side of your head. A few more thrusts, and Trent finally slows, his hot breath on your neck, his lips against your jaw. He rolls his hips into you gently one final time before pulling out. Come pours down your thighs in the aftermath, and you sigh in bliss feeling it trickle out of you. With a cheeky grin, Trent moves to get on his knees, giving both of your legs a sweet kiss. You feel his tongue next, lapping at his seed running down your thigh, and then he pulls away to look up at you.

My baby needs to come as well, don’t you?

You can only nod as sounds rather than words spill from your lips.

Trent takes that as his answer and leans in, moving that fucking tongue of his.


	172. Caught

It’s so risky, but he feels so good inside you. What can you say? You’re both seniors with an extra large dose of senioritis and decide to take your freedom to the next level.

Apparently that next level is having hot sex in the band closet in the music room during break. Your high school offers a thirty minute break after the first four classes. Thankfully, that gives the both of you ample time to enjoy yourselves together. Alone. Finally. Unfortunately, afterwards is band practice, which means most students will be coming through the band closet to grab their instruments and you have to be quick. Extra quick. The school is rather large and it takes the both of you at least five minutes to get to the music room to meet up.

With one sharp thrust deep inside you, Trent presses his lips against your neck, groaning against your skin, feeling as though he can’t get enough of you. He’s so deep, each thrust reaching further, causing you to let out a small squeak, soft, but still loud enough for anyone to have noticed had they walked by. Trent quickly places the tip of his finger against your lips to remind you to stay silent, and then he smiles playfully, moving that finger down your throat. His lips find yours, breaths mingling, a groan passing into your mouth, and when you tighten around him, that groan becomes a deep growl. Trent’s thrusts quicken, shallow first and then reaching up as deep as he can get. It’s like he’s trying to find that one spot inside you that make you scream. Perhaps he wants you to scream. Perhaps he wants the both of you to get caught, get in trouble just so that everyone knows who you belong to.

You can feel yourself on the brink of coming, and he doesn’t stop, refuses to let up because he wants to see your face when you finally orgasm, he wants to feel you really clench around him and spasm in pleasure in his arms. And when you finally do, Trent captures your lips with his, swallowing your moans and cries of ecstasy. You wrap your arms around him and kiss him back even harder, feeling him give one final thrust into you before he’s coming himself, releasing a strangled groan from his mouth. You know you’ll have to wash up in the bathroom later seen as how his cum starts to run down your leg.

Cover the tuba, you giggle at him and he chuckles back.

The door opens abruptly.

The both of you have no time to calm down after your high, especially once the band instructor walks in, eyes blazing like fire could shoot out of them killing you instantly. Her fury alone has the both of you running for your lives, him smoothing his hair and buttoning his fly while you adjust your blouse, but you still hear her screaming after you.

“Michael Reznor! You’re lucky you’re such an asset that I don’t have you expelled. That’s detention for the both of you!”

Maybe it’s wrong of you to laugh, but what is life without living on the edge?


	173. Soothing His Pain

Trent has always been troubled. You’ve known it since the beginning, since you first started dating him. Neurotic? Of course, but so are you, and this is the life of dating a young rockstar, someone whose music speaks of the pain and loss of this world.

Pain and loss. It’s the only thing prevalent on this one day. This one day of sunshine and birds chirping. You wish they would stop. For him. But the world continues on while his crashes down around him. Why did it have to be such a beautiful day? You swallow back the tears like rocks that have caused a huge lump to form in your throat. His sister, Tera’s face is tear-washed, and their father stands a distance away, and even you seem a little out of place being there. You didn’t know this woman, you didn’t know what she meant to Trent. To Trent most of all. And his face is void of emotion, stone-faced, blank, eyes bloodshot and somewhat aged. He stands like a statue by the casket, watches it being lowered into the ground. Six feet under. Amidst the worms and earth and decay.

And then, just like that, she’s gone. Forever. Clara. The woman who raised him. The one who stayed when everyone left.

You’ve never seen Trent this vulnerable.

Throughout the funeral, he did nothing, he said nothing- in fact, he hardly moved, but as soon as the first layer of dirt dropped to the top of the coffin, you watched Trent jump slightly, expression never wavering but those green eyes growing sadder and sadder, as if they could brim over with tears any moment.

It all changed once you softly closed the door of the hotel room the both of you were staying at for the time being. Trent collapses in your arms with a loud sob, needing your warmth, needing the protection of your arms, just to keep him away from this pain. Everything he’s ever felt deep in the pit of his soul has resurfaced, haunting him, tormenting him. He finally lets everything go; he knows he can’t keep up this image. Trent can’t be tough today. You know this watching the tears stream down his cheeks. What can you do? You can’t tell him everything will be all right; he knows that but it’s not what he wants to hear. He just needs you by his side, holding him, being there.

You lead him to the bed, lay down with him, watching how he curls up in a ball, trembling and sniffling while his sobs soften. Wasting no time at all, you draw him in close to you, and he rests his head against your chest, wrapping his arms around your waist in a tight, possessive hug. At this moment, you realize just how much he needs you, how he can’t do this all alone. He needs someone who cares, someone who will catch him when he falls, and as cliché as it sounds, you know that you are made for that role. You reciprocate the embrace, pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead and nose, feeling his trembling gradually cease. Your loving touch calms him it seems. He needs you, and you promise him you won’t leave.

Even when everyone else leaves, you make a vow that you won’t.

 


	174. Saving Him

Nurses and paramedics wheel him away on the stretcher down the busy halls of the hospital, but you stay close, by his side, heart pounding so hard you feel as though it could explode right out of your chest. You don’t know how it happened, and you try not to allow your vision to get hazy, but all you want to do is scream and cry.

Why.

Why would he do this.

You reach for his hand, but you can’t bear to look at his face, eyes lulling back in his head, nose caked over with dried blood, and frothing drool dripping from the corners of his mouth. Moreover you want to scream at him, shake him into conscious, beg him to tell you why, how he could ever do this. You know he was in pain, emotional pain, but he could have come to you. You could have helped him. You feel like you failed him. And now you could lose him.

You stay with him all night. The nurses tell you he’s stable, and you make your place in the chair by his hospital bed, only finally falling asleep around four in the morning. The sound of him shifting restlessly wakes you up, and it only takes a split second, maybe even less than that, for you to shoot from your seat and rush to his side, kneeling by his bed, feeling the tears sting your eyes once again. No words can fall from your lips no matter how much you want to scream at him, cry, make him know his pain is your pain, how you can’t live with yourself if he suddenly dropped dead without a thought. He’s your everything. You can’t live without him.

Instead of saying all these things, you fall forward against his chest with a sob, hearing the soft sound of his beating heart, something you never thought you’d hear again. It’s a beautiful sound, so constant and peaceful against everything else that seems to fall apart around the both of you. It’s yours. He said that to you once, and you swear on anything, you won’t lose it again. Your sobbing is quiet as is the steady sound of his heart and his breathing.

Stable.

He’s stable, and you’re reeling with emotions.

So you continue to cry into his chest, holding him close, grasping him with a grip so tight you’re afraid he’ll fall away from you, out of your sight forever. Like he’ll evaporate into thin air. Fragile.

Neither of you say a word. There’s nothing left to be said. You want to feel something. You want to say something. Anything. You feel as though you should. Perhaps you owe him that. Perhaps this is your fault. You weren’t there to save him from doing it. From making that huge mistake. The hand in your hair stops you though, tells you that none of this is your fault. None of this was your choice. It was his. All his. The hand in your hair, caressing you, running fingers through your soft tendrils is his apology to you. His most sincere apology to you and only you. Because when he held that little bag in his hand, he nearly forgot how much you mean to him.

And you mean the world to Trent.

Perhaps this is his second chance to try.

For you.


	175. A DIRTY GAY IMAGINE

Languidly, you rub your cock while you watch him. You’ve got him right where you want him, all tied up tight, ropes burning into his flesh, the ball gag tearing at the corners of his mouth. He’s vulnerable, open, just for you, like a toy.

You have Trent Reznor suspended in the air, arms and legs held up in the air and tied to a peg in the ceiling. Perfect. You can see every little bit of him, his small muscles quivering as you can see the ropes start to give but remain taut enough to keep him in the air. The position he is in gives you perfect access to his ass, legs all spread out and splayed, a sleek, black plug deep in his entrance. You smirk to yourself. And to think you needed to find something smaller? No, you know his sweet, little ass can take every inch, and your grin widens as you think about how he’ll be taking every inch of you. Approaching him eagerly yet slowly, you run your hand up the inside of his thigh, pleased with the soft, muffled whimper that escapes his gagged lips.

Sweet baby. Want me inside you?

At the sound of your voice, Trent tries to move but only manages to make himself sway in the air. You chuckle at the sight of his predicament, at how he struggles, and gently your hand moves up, splayed over his tummy, caressing his quivering flesh. Trent nods frantically, possibly trying to form words against the ball gag in his mouth. Those sweet noises he makes end in squeals once you remove the plug, and you gasp in awe, feeling him clench around your fingers, slick with your spit. You crook them inside him, pleased with those high-pitched whines of his.

Please, Sir… please… is what it seems he’s trying to say. If only you could understand him, you shake your head and continue to tease him with your fingers.

Your cock is slick with lube, aligned with his gaping entrance, and you push in, without warning, without restraint, and Trent screams against the ball gag, eyes squeezed shut tight, bound hands tightening into fists. With your hands on his hips, you pull him forward onto you, onto your throbbing cock. You almost want to laugh out loud; he’s like a little fleshlight, a fleshlight that makes adorable noises when you fuck it. Every time he rocks back and forth from his suspension, Trent manages to fall back on your thick member with another pleasured yet pain-filled screech. You practically stand back and watch him do it, all on his own, over and over again. Quite hilarious really.

You must really want my cock, don’t you?

Trent’s needy screams reduce to whimpers as he wildly nods his head up and down. Yes. Please. More. You hold him steady, pounding into him hard and rough, giving into his begging and pleading. Fuck it, you remove the gag; you want to hear him coherently, telling him louder, say it louder. Fuck me, Sir, oh please fuck me, Trent whines, trembling uncontrollably. He’s on the very edge, you can tell, and you ask him.

Wanna come? Hmm? Wanna come?

You chuckle, hearing him scream the affirmative. Wrapping your hand around his pulsing cock, you order him to come. Now. You watch his face, scrunched up in pleasure, gasp when his seed shoots out all over his chest and tummy and face. He looks so beautiful at this moment, and you lick your lips, wanting to lick every drop of his come from his face. You do so, only pausing to murmur in his ear how you want to come in his mouth later.

Please come in my mouth, Trent begs breathlessly, and you smile proudly.

What a good slave.


	176. Somnophilia

Trent watches you lying there, purring sweet, nonsensical words in your sleep. Sometimes he hears you talk to him, asking him for things, some things he has to do a double take just to make sure he heard you right. If he has to be honest with himself, the way you look, all sweet and innocent just lying there on the bed, makes small butterflies begin to flutter around in his stomach moving gradually down.

Feeling a little daring, Trent decides to climb into bed with you, watching you breathe evenly, almost reeling when another small noise falls from your sweet, delicious-looking lips. He touches them with two fingers tentatively, rubbing his thumb across your lower lip. Perhaps it’s that “please” you mumble once more that forces Trent to quickly unzip his fly, pull out his stiff cock, and move in between your legs. Thumbs hooked into the elastic waistband of your sweats, Trent pulls them down slowly yet eagerly, breathing out a hot breath over your chest as he leans in close to softly kiss your pink lips. You hum in your sleep, and it only urges him on, makes him harder.

Pretty girl… he murmurs under his breath, lining himself up to your entrance, moving your underwear to the side, and pushing in, groaning out at the glorious sensation of your wet warmth engulfing him.

You feel amazing around him, around his cock, and Trent continues to mutter out sweet nothings over your sleeping frame while he ravishes you, thrusting in and out at an increasingly fast pace, so much so that your body rocks back and forth beneath him. Trent doesn’t know where to put his hands. At one point, they rest at either side of your head, elbows locked, shoulders shaking as he feels his orgasm approach. Nearly losing it, Trent grips your breasts beneath your shirt and moves to fuck into you harder, breathing staggering and stuttering as he does so, arms wrapping around your waist. With a whiny moan, Trent finally comes, spilling his seed deep inside you like he could get you pregnant or something.

After a minute or so, you open your eyes, offering him in his frazzled high a cheeky yet coy grin. It takes Trent nearly a minute and a half to stutter out how hot that whole scenario was for him. Hot for you too, you manage to murmur, moaning under your breath at the fact that you didn’t come yet and eyeing him almost pleadingly.

How does it feel when I use your body like that?

You can tell Trent teases you, especially with the way he fingers your blouse, insinuating just what he wants from you. Slowly you begin to unbutton it and spread your thighs even wider, just feeling that strangely erotic sensation of his cum sliding out of you.

Just get down there and clean me up, you order him.

You can only just catch a glimpse of his devilish grin as he does as he’s told.


	177. Passionate Sex by the Sea

So beautiful…

It is, you quietly agree with a small smile, observing the crashing of the waves as they fell against the rocks far below the two of you. You overlook the expanse of the sea and the distance of the horizon as the sun begins to set, casting off a watercolor array of pinks and oranges and purples before your eyes. It is peaceful to you; the smell of the ocean below calms you, and you sigh in bliss, falling back gently on your elbows.

I meant you.

Trent looks at you earnestly when you turn to meet his eyes. They are a green that contrasts with the hue of the sea. Brighter than they have ever been. You laugh first. Cheesy fuck, and Trent joins you before he sobers and pulls you closer to him.

No really.

He thinks you’re the most beautiful thing in the world. Truly. Not a bit of hesitation when he says it. Trent is sure of himself, and he’s sure of you, sure of the way the light of the setting sun catches in your hair, or how its rays reflect in your lovely eyes. He’s sure of how close you are to him but he wants- no, he needs you closer or perhaps he’s worried you’ll fall away from him, slip from his fingers if he merely blinks only once. You reassure him of your constant presence by pressing a sweet, gentle kiss against his soft, perfect lips. You love that mouth, love that cupid’s bow, the perfectly arching crest of his lips, perfect for kissing.

Trent kisses you back eagerly, presses himself up against your body, one hand against the sand holding himself steady while his other hand rests against the back of your neck. He wants you, desperately; his mouth tells you so in tender kisses against your own, tender kisses that trail down your jaw and throat in soft caresses, becoming more and more ravenous with each touch against your flesh. Your breaths quicken, grow more heavy, mingling with his own as he moves you to straddle his waist, hands resting against your hips, lovingly rubbing circles into them.

You feel his fingers dare to brush whatever clothing aside, feel him raise you slightly so you can rest on top of him. Your mouth falls open, jaw slack as you take every inch of him, bottoming out, feeling yourself stretch nearly to the limit around him. You hear him gasp when he enters you, gasp and moan, bucking his hips up against you, urging you to ride him, please, and you moan with him, rocking up and down on him, moving in time with him. Trent’s mouth falls open as well, and you lean down to capture his lips with yours, tongue entering him, crooking inside. His hands grip your hips, direct you faster, fuck, faster while he reaches even deeper.

So fucking beautiful.

You sigh at his praise, pressing your hands on his cheeks to kiss him again, like you can’t ever let go of him.

Trent comes inside, hot and deep within you, triggering your orgasm which sends you into spasms, trembling on top of him, hands slamming down on his chest as you cry out for him, crying out his name. You shudder in your high, Trent moaning your name after you, calming you with his hands. He pulls you down with him, holding you close, skin on skin, the very touch you offer loving him.


	178. Wartenberg Wheel Play

Trent hitches in a breath and glances down at the scene below, right at his dick, chest heaving up and down rapidly with no intention of calming. It’s not like he wants to though. You’re on your knees in front of him, mouth level with his throbbing cock, left hand on his naked hip. Your right hand remains busy with the wheel, while normally used as a tool for medical surgery, and you slowly glide it up Trent’s skin, over his chest, across his nipples, making him twitch and writhe a bit restlessly in his seat. He wants more; you can tell, and you wonder just how much he can take, although you grin to think of what you can do to make him squeal. You want to hear more pretty noises out of him.

Ever so gently, you bring the wheel down his flesh along his tummy, almost lovingly. Perhaps too lovingly. It seems that way as he starts to purr against the touch of that tool moving across his skin. You’re too soft on him. Perhaps a little harder.

As soon as you apply pressure, pressing in on his pale flesh, Trent gives out a short, little cry. You almost stop. You don’t want to seriously hurt him or make him that uncomfortable. But he begins to speak, through unsteady breaths.

More… break the skin… please…

He’s practically begging for the pain. Your little masochist. You love him for it, and a small smirk forms on your face, turning up the corners of your lips. You offer a short, sweet kiss against his hip and then get back to work, beginning to press down once more into his beautiful body. Trent sucks in a sharp breath and whimpers as the teeth of the wheel dig into him, just below his pelvic bone, so, so, so close. Beads of blood form, and you can’t believe yourself as you lean in to lave your tongue up the small fresh cut. The metallic taste of iron floods your mouth.

Did you just groan?

You pull back and glance at Trent, who looks utterly wrecked, debauched, needy, anything but uncomfortable. He fucking wants this. He wants more. His eyelids flutter at you desperately, coyly, silently pleading with you to continue, please continue, and so you slide the tool ever so slowly up his shaft, already fully hard and resting against his stomach. You start from the base, moving steadily up, and Trent eyes you incredulously before throwing his head back as the wheel makes its way over his sensitive head. A throaty, strangled cry escapes his wet lips, and you long to capture them with your own, swallow his moans and his pleas and whimpers. He keeps begging using that one word, ‘more’.

How does it feel?

You sound curious, but the tool moves dangerously over his head again.

Good- fuck!

You hum and lazily slide it down his shaft once more. Bet he’s fantasizing you decorating his poor cock with numerous lacerations. You state your thoughts aloud, and sure enough, Trent lets out an audible moan, just imploring you to let him fucking come. Please.

You shrug.

I’ll have to think about it.

You finger the cut.

I want to play with you some more.


	179. Gift

All he had to do was watch Watts the Safeword make one themselves and it simply seemed like the perfect idea. A sweet, thoughtful, yet wholly inappropriate gift made for the perfectly appropriate time.

Trent leaves tomorrow for tour, and as much as he longs for you to join him, you know that the both of you would only be exhausted through it all and would not be able to enjoy each other’s company. He will miss you, he tells you sincerely, terribly so here’s a kiss for you and a more material gift for later.

Kissing you fully on the lips, Trent groans into it, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tight and close, so much you can hardly breathe; his arms are so strong and protective. You don’t want to see him leave yet again, but you know without a doubt that he will be back with more kisses, hot sex, and plenty more memories to make with you later. You start counting the seconds as soon as he releases you from his warm and loving embrace. His eyes pierce into yours, searching for that emotion he doesn’t want to see. I’ll be home before you know it, he reassures you, and you can only smile, rubbing his shoulders, his biceps before asking with a smirk what the next gift is. His expression becomes smug; you can already see how proud he is of himself.

I made this for you.

There’s a slight blush in his cheeks, hidden just a little bit by his stubble. When you open the box, you don’t know whether to laugh aloud or throw him against the wall and have him fuck you right then and there.

It’s a molding of his dick. The thick, whopping seven and a half inches, made to perfection, and before you can even ask, he explains with a somewhat nervous chuckle in his voice.

Just a little something of me for you to keep me close during this tour. If you start to miss me more than usual, just use this and I’m right there.

You punch Trent’s arm playfully but tell him that you will use it faithfully until he returns from his trip.

With one last kiss and another chuckle, more confident and smug than the last one, Trent leans in to press a heated kiss along your jawline. Then he whispers hotly in your ear, making you shiver, pleased, thoroughly aroused.

Make me a video of you using it.


	180. What are you whining about?

You think he looks rather cute in this position. Cute and vulnerable. And absolutely, utterly fuckable. Trent lies on his back, naked and spread just for you, legs open and wrists handcuffed together, resting against his pale chest. How beautiful, you think. Do you tell him? Of course not. He’s been nothing but a bad boy. A very, very bad boy who needs to be punished severely, you tell him as you grab an entire fistful of his dreads and yank on them viciously. The whimper that falls from his wet lips sends arousal straight between your legs. Such a beautiful sound, you could gag him. You just might, you decide as you get into position between his spread, white thighs.

The plug in his cute little ass stares right back up at you once you reach down to remove it. Trent whines at the loss it, letting you know that now is a proper time to use the gag. The way he stares at you as you put it in his mouth makes you laugh outright.

The only thing I want to hear out of your sweet mouth is the noises you’ll make when I fuck your ass.

It’s as if he grows harder from your words. His dick stands upright against his concave tummy, pre-cum oozing out of the slit and dripping onto his pale, pretty flesh. You reach out two fingers to scoop some of it up, rubbing it in, humming contentedly.

Mm… wet already. Dirty little boy. Just dripping. Feels as though you could come any minute now, can’t you?

Trent can only nod, and then he lets out a high-pitched squeal from behind the gag as you begin to push in with the strap on. He stretches out nicely for you, perfectly, and you watch in awe, watch him take every inch of the toy, swallowing it up like the greedy whore that he is. You begin a slow thrusting, snapping forward just a bit abruptly so that he can really feel it, and he manages to moan and whine as you move in deeper and deeper.

Little slut…

Trent nods wildly, eyes squeezed shut, grunting as his body moves back and forth while you fuck into him mercilessly. Fuck, you need to hear more of him, and as soon as you remove the gag, he cries out shrilly, wantonly, voiced edged, laced in arousal.

What do you say? Your eyes are piercing as you yourself fuck this little toy.

Th-thank you, Mommy!

Good boy… you purr at him, rocking your hips a little faster, hearing his voice shake with every move you make. Trent’s hands become fists as he strains against the handcuffs, looking so feeble and vulnerable, just the way you like him.

Mommy… Trent practically drags out the last syllable in such a needy way. Perhaps he needs to be punished some more, so you decide to add some pain to this pleasure. You smack his thigh harshly, pleased with the squeak out of him.

What are you whining about, you filthy little whore? What? What? God, listen to yourself, moaning like a fucking slut.

In fact, with each word you spit over him, Trent wails, the pleasure overtaking him, so much so that he comes all over himself, his chest and tummy and face, the cum itself dribbling down his pink lips. You smirk at the obscene sight of it, still rutting into him wildly, determined to make him feel the oversensitivity as punishment.

You must really love pain.


	181. Parenthood

The both of you didn’t think that you would make good parents. And the both of you are clearly mistaken:

  * Trent makes an amazing father to your children.
  * Tucking them in every night with goodnight kisses and lullabies.
  * The sweet sound of his singing voice lulling them to sleep, and then your soft kisses against their foreheads.
  * Bringing the blankets up to their little chins, keeping them nice and warm.
  * Trent trying his hand at making their meals but for the most part letting you be the boss of that.
  * You watching him play with them, a gleeful grin on his face as he listens to their delighted squeals and giggles.
  * Him casually humming while he changes the little one’s diapers.
  * You catch him calling the baby a little stinker as you walk by.
  * Trent reassures you on their first day of kindergarten, helps you make the lunches, checks the backpacks to make sure all their books and supplies are together.
  * The both of you watch them run off towards the bus and as it drives them away to school.
  * Never thinking this moment would ever happen.
  * Realizing the both of you actually got this far, succeeded in parenthood.
  * The both of you are there for each reprimand, each moment to teach your children about real life and the gifts it holds as well as the mistakes up ahead.
  * The both of you guiding them through their mistakes.
  * Protecting them when they need protection.
  * Preparing them for when they are ready to be on their own.
  * Watching them walk out the door to start their new lives.
  * But knowing that the both of you, you and Trent managed to show them every step of the way.
  * You’re proud of each other.
  * You’re proud of them.
  * Proud parents.




	182. From Far Away

Wow. She’s gorgeous.

It’s like a loop on repeat in his head, a broken record. Trent just can’t stop looking at you once he first lays his green eyes on you. It’s true. You are beautiful in your own special way, and that’s what attracts him to you, instantly. Plenty of times he has to make sure he’s not blatantly staring, but sometimes he can’t help it. You radiate a confidence he wishes he has.

This can’t go anywhere if he doesn’t make the move to actually attempt to make conversation with you.

A wave of anxiety passes through Trent as the possibility goes through his mind. He wants to. Of course he does. He wants to walk straight up to you right at this very moment and hold out his hand and introduce himself just so he catch the sound of your voice when you say your name back. He wants to feel that intimate connection once he finally takes your hand in his in a firm yet gentle grasp. Trent simply realizes that he really wants to meet you, in person, now or never. He wants to know you; now if only he’ll get up, move those two feet just to get close to you.

There goes another wave of anxiety.

Trent swallows nervously. There are two things that could go wrong and only one thing that could go well. He could introduce himself, risk your laugh in his face seen as how he’s too much of a weirdo to be taken seriously by a beautiful girl. Or he could introduce himself and risk you thinking he’s an absolute creep who’s been secretly watching you all day. Blushing to himself over that terrible possibility, Trent can’t say that that’s what he hasn’t been doing. But here’s where it could go right, completely right, splendidly right. You would give him a chance, and he would humble himself, especially when it comes to wanting to get to know you.

Hi. My name is Michael, but please don’t call me Michael. Instead call me Trent. It just sounds better that way. I’m a broke musician living with my best friend in an apartment where I can’t even own a dog and the only thing in our fridge is a few leftovers and a jar of mayonnaise, and I hate mayonnaise. So I was wondering if maybe you’d like to… maybe… get a drink with me sometime?

Trent shrugs. It’s the best he’s got honestly. And there’s only one way to find out if you’ll completely reject him or not.

He doesn’t even realize how restless he is. Trent cracks his knuckles, tapping his foot a bit wildly on the sidewalk. You’re still there. You haven’t left yet. So what is he waiting for?

Just do it, Reznor, damn it.

With an abrupt huff, Trent finally shoots up from his seat. He’s going to do it, he has realized. He’s going to make the first move. He sees that now as you become closer in his view. He walks toward you, one foot in front of the other, heart pounding, mouth silently reciting the words of what he’s going to say to you, certain not to mess up. He knows he’s going to be a stammering mess as soon as he taps you on the shoulder.

A hand waits for you to shake it, arm extended, and two true green eyes stare into yours.


	183. Cuddles and Aftercare

As soon as it’s over, Trent’s expression changes from one of smug dominance to gentle concern.

There we go, kitten. All over. You did so well for me. So, so well. My precious little kitten.

You purr in response, nuzzling into his neck as he moves to remove the handcuffs that keep your wrists bound to the ceiling. Sweat drips from your temple; you probably need a shower and the marks that crisscross over nearly every inch of your body decorate and sting your flesh mercilessly. He was merciless tonight, but each lash sent you into a painful euphoria. Each time his hand wrapped around your quivering throat, you felt your eyes cross in ecstasy.

Trent had been relentless, punishing; you had been a very bad girl, hadn’t you? But his reward for taking every bit of it. God, if only you could feel that pleasure again. That same amount. That pleasure he gave you that forced a high scream, crying out his name from your lips, wet with your tears, sweat, and spit.

He had smacked you around a bit, spit on you, pulled your hair, whatever it took to make you realize how naughty you had been. But each caress across your flesh with merely his finger or tongue, each kiss however gentle or heated forced you to remain wary. You weren’t used to the pain. He never allowed you to get used to it. That was just how he liked to play with his little toy. It seems Trent enjoys playing with his food before each it.

And now, it’s all over. The punishment finished. Trent’s hands and face becoming gentle with worry. You’re free from your bonds and wrapped in his strong, warm embrace, bridal style, your sweaty, naked body molding with his lovingly. You can feel his stubble against your cheek, and that’s just one of the many things that ground you after a scene like this. It lets you know that he’s here, he’s not leaving you, he’ll always be here to protect and take care of you.

Once Trent sets you on the bed, he gestures for you to get on your front so that he can apply the ointment to your back, ass, and thighs. You sigh into his touch. Perfect. Afterwards he wraps you up tight and secure in your favorite warm blanket and holds you close in his lap, peppering the top of your head with kisses. Each kiss sends a surge of electricity through your veins, and you snuggle in closer with him, loving how warm and present he is.

Did so well for me… you hear him murmur.

Every time you hear that bit of pride in his voice, that pride meant for you, you want to tackle him and smother him in kisses and love. But he’s taking care of you now. You need to rest and heal. It’s aftercare, he explains. Just let him do this. It’s his way of letting you know that he will always be a good dom for his sub. It’s his job to be, otherwise none of this would be healthy for either of you.

You hear Trent murmur how much he loves you, and you say it back, in a soft little voice, smiling tenderly as he kisses your cheek repeatedly.

He’s perfect for you.


	184. Cuddles

Trent doesn’t really know how to make the first move when it comes to cuddling, but he awkwardly takes you into his arms from behind and pulls you against his thin chest, his long hair tickling your neck. This is nice. Much better, he thinks and plants a soft kiss against the top of your head after a short moment. You hum in approval, a small, content smile stretching across your face as you snuggle in closer, pressing the side of your face into his chest and breathing in that warm, clean scent of his, like freshly washed clothes, soft and cozy.

He makes you feel safe.

The way he rubs your back, stroking it with long, gentle, piano fingers and brushing your hair back from your eyes. You love the way his hands feel against your skin. He’s so protective of you, holding you like he simply can’t let you go. Doesn’t seem like he wants to at the moment; in fact, he draws you in closer, the warmth of his body heat surrounding you, making you feel incredibly safe, safer than you’ve ever been. To be honest, it has been a while since you decided to trust someone to hold you like this, to make you feel needed and wanted, everything you haven’t felt in a long, long time, everything you thought you wouldn’t feel ever again.

You’re giving him a chance.

You can’t believe you’re actually doing it, after all the times you’ve been hurt, been rejected, touch-starved, you name it. And Trent actually wants to be with you. Proves it with numerous kisses to your scalp, your temples, your nose, and then finally your lips, saving those for last with the sweetest, most innocent kiss this rockstar could give you.

He’s not asking something from you. He’s not forcing something from you. The both of you simply lay there in a tender embrace on your bed, absolute silence, nothing but the steady sounds of your pulsing heartbeats drowning out all thought.

It’s like a calming trance between the two of you, him mindlessly playing with your hair and kissing your forehead once or twice and you wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing your entire being against him.

It’s moments like these that you wish would last forever.

Moments that seem to erase the negative and leave you blissful.


	185. Birthday Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Note: I did not come up with the birthday party at the Pig House that is mentioned in the first paragraph. All credit for that idea goes to PunkRokGirl13 on Wattpad in her very, very amazing story “Broken”. Call this a little shoutout to how good her writing is. Definitely give that story and her others a read!)

Normally when Trent thinks of his birthday, he thinks of one day closer, just one day, one year, and then he doesn’t think much of it. Perhaps he’s had a few spectacular birthdays, and he makes a point to think about that one birthday party when he lived at the murder house (the one with all the cake… and the coke… and the costumes… and the girls, lots of girls), but at the same time Trent wants to be alone- or at least he thinks he does. He’s simply never thought about spending it with anyone really, always thought no one actually wanted to give him the time of day unless he was someone important to them. Like someone who makes money for music corporations that leech off of him for profit.   
And then he met you.   
Maybe he expected the sweet good morning kiss when the both of you woke up, but maybe not the birthday breakfast you make for him.   
Perhaps he expected to get at least one present from you, and he smiles over the new suit you got for him. He’ll look so suave and dapper in it, you think proudly.   
What he really doesn’t expect is the birthday dinner. Somewhere nice. Somewhere quaint and not too fancy. Or the fact that you keep allowing your foot to “accidentally” brush against him, maybe sliding up his pant leg, giggling slightly when he nearly chokes on his food. After one too many drinks tonight, the both of you stumble through the door, mouths finding each other heatedly, hands groping mindlessly, moans and sighs filling the air. One thing’s for certain, in his muddled mind, Trent expected this entirely.   
Take off your clothes and get in that bed, ass in the air, birthday boy.  
Trent obeys mindlessly while he removes his tie and unbuttons his shirt, nodding his head wildly.   
The birthday boy deserves his birthday spankings, you continue in a sing-song voice.   
Yes please, mommy.   
He’s presenting himself to you, parting his cheeks, giving you a full view of his ass which you offer a light, teasing smack to.   
Gonna be a good birthday boy or a bad birthday boy?  
Bad birthday boy, Trent moans without hesitation to which you hum in approval, wishing you could touch yourself at how horny he is already. You tap the crop you grabbed against the palm of your other hand almost a little too threateningly, the sharp cracking sound alone making him jump in his place slightly.   
Spread those cheeks a little more for me, baby boy. Let me see that needy hole.   
Trent obeys instantly, whimpering at the first harsh slap from the crop that comes down hard on his soft, pale flesh. You like that sound; you want to hear it out of him again.   
Start counting, baby. One for each year.


	186. Make-up Sex

Fights with Trent are never what one would call wanted or even needed. But they certainly are memorable.

Trent isn’t normally one to yell; that’s your personal preference when it comes to forcefully getting your very valued point across. Trent merely mumbles his opinion or lays down some snarky remark, very wounding, something you know any other time he certainly doesn’t mean but hurts just the same. He’ll furrow his brow and wrinkle his nose before sending that jab over and then walking away, only looking back when you stalk away in the opposite direction. A few slammed doors and muffled curses later, and then it’s complete silence.

Trent’s the one to open the door first after just a minute of realizing the fuck up.

He opens the door with a soft click of the handle, pushes it ajar, waits to hear the tears, bracing himself. Whether or not he hears them, the soft sniffling or the mumbled cursing, he ventures out of his room anyway, abandoning a pretty important track, leaving it running probably, and approaches the door to your room, lifting his hand to knock.

Whether or not you want to, you always open the door for him, always give him a second chance. You know deep down he does the same for you. Not too many words need to be said to remind you that he loves you so, so much, and none of those words spoken only moments ago so scathingly were what he meant. He didn’t mean any of it, he whispers between the first few inquiring kisses. Your lips give permission while his tongue finds the inside of your mouth. Either you want to fight, fuck, or makeup, or maybe even a little bit of all three; whatever you do, you find yourself wrapped up in Trent’s skinny arms, dropping his jacket by the floor while he backs you up against the foot of the bed, lips never leaving yours.

Fighting’s over.

The only things that fall from Trent’s lips are how sorry he is. He keeps saying it as he continues to kiss you, all over, leaving no part of your body untouched, and perhaps your soft moans drown out his words. You already know what he means, you already know what he wants, and you know you definitely want the same thing at this point. Just to forget those past few moments and remember why the both of you have remained together all this time.

I’m sorr-

Shut the fuck up and fuck me.

Trent is happy to listen and obey this time, eager to draw out more pleasured sounds from your pretty lips.

We’ll fight about this later…?

You put a finger to his lips, shake your head, and roll your eyes, drawing him in closer.


	187. Size Kink

Everyone knows Brian has a big dick.

That’s to put it bluntly. Of course Trent acknowledges it; he knows exactly what it feels like to have all of that inside of him every other day. In fact, he relishes it, but it’s no mystery that the others know what Brian is sporting. Trent used to feel threatened by his size really. It’s not that he doesn’t have a fairly large length of his own, and of course he tries to remind himself that he wasn’t phased by Courtney’s proclamation to the world, but Brian has always seemed to one-up him when it came to anatomy. He’s taller than him, and Trent has always felt subconscious about his stature. And now it just so happens that he is more well-endowed than him too.

It used to bother him.

He’s the “big man with a gun”, Mr. Nine Inch Nails, not Mr. Three Inch Nails.

But now Trent Reznor would be lying if Brian’s size in comparison to his didn’t turn him on just a little bit. In fact, it arouses him immensely. And it’s not just the way Brian skillfully fucks him into submission. Perhaps it’s the way he sucks him off without gagging (whether or not he’s mastered his gag reflex) and tells him how cute he thinks his cock is. Cute. Pretty little dick, he says.

Yes, he knows he’s not small. Brian knows it too.

It’s the way he says it.

Pretty little dick. The humiliation behind the words arouses Trent, the way Brian teases and mocks him because he damn well knows what size means to him. And now Trent wants him to say those demeaning things to him, stroke him down while he does it, tell him how his entire hand could engulf his member like it was nothing, how even his little finger is longer than his fucking cock. (It isn’t but Trent likes to think so just to feel that wave of utter humiliation and degradation wash over him.)

I offer you a fucking meal and all you can give me is a measly little snack, Brian spits at him while slapping him harshly across the face. He knows what this does to Trent, and it delights him just the same that he can act this sadistic, knowing that it gets the former off like nothing, knowing Trent would squirt everywhere with one flick of his finger and a verbal jab at his manhood. I bet groupies have to ask if it’s even in yet.

Trent reddens, the very color in contrast to his pale, pale skin. He feels himself pulse once more when Brian finally leans forward, arm outstretched, hand and fingers grasping and wrapping around his quivering length, practically dripping with pre-cum. Fucking leaking like the little whore you are, Brian mutters to himself, shaking his head as though Trent’s arousal disappoints him. You really are such a fucking masochist, you pain-slut. Graveling for me just to insult you like this. _Fuck._

Brian, please…

Trent drags out the please, voice rising to that of a desperate, whorish whine. Another slap this time at his thigh, silences him to a mere whimper, and Brian’s eyes reduce to slits, studying him, figuring him out. It seems as though he’s succeeded.

I could snap this thing in half with just two fingers.

Jesus, Brian… Trent moans, feeling as though he could come any second.


	188. Shy

Trent sits on the bed looking at you with large eyes that tend to wander while his cheeks redden every so often. You’ve always known how shy he can be, but now he’s more than just “shy”. He’s babbling and blushing, shifting restlessly on his knees on the bed, just waiting to take his first order or for you to make the first move. One thing is for certain, you know that the cheeks on his pretty, pretty face won’t be the only thing that turns red once you’re done with him.

Sit up, baby. What’s your color?

Green… he barely whispers in response.

You can’t help but groan inwardly at the sight of him. As much of a control freak as he is, Trent being submissive for you and only you is a special, rare treat. No one has ever seen him like this. Not on stage. Not in the recording studio. Certainly not around his bandmates or other influential friends or “friends” at parties and such. This alter ego is for you and only for you; every little docile flutter of his eyelids, that rosy blush that falls over every inch of his pale, vampire-like skin. He’s practically quivering once you get him on his back, only in his underwear, trembling against the sheets while he gazes up at you. His green eyes are glazed over in lust, but he quickly averts them to the side, whimpering slightly.

What’s the matter, angel?

The whimper becomes a whine as you gently, tenderly smooth your wandering hands up and down his thighs.

Shy…

You click your tongue but smirk down at him, hoisting him up by his hips, lower half in the air, legs splayed and resting on your shoulders.

Let me know as soon as your color changes, doll.

Trent can only nod once before moaning whorishly as your index finger sneaks down to gingerly circle around his hole. His breath hitches in his throat, and he squeezes his eyes shut as you continue this lewd gesture. You love that sound, a combined gasp and moan, high-pitched and needy, everything you love about him, so small and submissive just for you.

If anything, Trent loses control in the bedroom.

Perhaps you’ll tie him up tight, flip him over, and whip his ass mercilessly until he’s screaming for you and you alone, calling you mommy with tears of pain and pleasure running down his face, mixing in with his sweat. You’ll have him drooling for you, begging you to let him come, please, oh please let him come. Maybe you will let him come. Again and again and again. You won’t give him a break. He’ll cry for completely different reasons this time. Cry that it’s too much, fuck, it’s too much, he can’t take anymore. But you know he can.

Because he won’t use his safeword.

He only wants to please you.


	189. Frottage

Do you see how hard I get for you?

Trent’s eyes are bloodshot as he looks down at you. He’s hovering over you on the couch, an obvious erection in his jeans; you can see the bulge jutting out from the fabric, tenting out. It’s looks rather absurd, especially in the position he’s in but your mouth breaks into a devilish grin as you reach up to palm at it, ever so softly, tentatively, perhaps a little teasingly. The low growl Trent emits sends shivers running up and down your spine, but you continue this lewd gesture, keeping your eyes locked on his the entire time.

If he tries to break contact from you, he simply can’t. Trent shuts his eyes tight at the glorious friction you offer through his pants, but he quickly opens them just so he can look at you, moan at what you’re doing to him. He lets his eyelids flutter a little as you press in harder, feeling for the tip. He’s more than sensitive at this point; you obviously don’t know what you do to him, how you drive him absolutely crazy. Still, Trent holds this position over, maybe reaching out to grasp the armrest of the couch over your head just to steady himself. Now he’s shaking, breaths growing heavier and heavier with each stroke, each caress to the head between the fabric of the jeans.

With him hovering over you like this, you can catch a whiff of his sweet cologne, not to strong with just a hint of sweat. You’ll make him overexert himself at the rate you’re going, perhaps overstimulate him when he finally comes. In his pants. How shameful.

You don’t mind muttering this to him while he whines and pants over you. In fact, it only succeeds in riling him up some more. To be honest, he’s never really minded overstimulation; he’s relished it even, considering what a masochist he is. And now here you are, threatening it, and he’s so, so close to spilling his load, right in his underwear. And he doesn’t even care. Perhaps Trent enjoys the humiliation that comes with the idea, and even if he didn’t, you have no intention of stopping.

The whine in the back of his throat rises to an even higher pitch, one that makes you giggle beneath him while you continue to rub him down through his jeans. Fuck, he’s like a desperate, horny high school boy, humping against his pillow just to get off. You tell him so, and he whimpers, hanging his head, but it doesn’t stop him from tightening onto the armrest and rutting wildly against your hand. He’s so damn close, more than desperate. Greedy.

Trent’s face is slick with sweat, and you can feel your hand cramping up while you stroke him, but you keep going just so you can see his face when he finally comes.

A strangled cry escapes his lips, short, loud, but dies off quickly as he twitches and shudders against you, spasming until he collapses on top of you, his body warm, reeking of sweat. Your hand finally slows and you mouth at his neck, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear of how well he did for you, how you wish he had come inside you at that very moment. Trent only moans and pulls himself up on his knees so that he’s straddling you, looking down at you with an absolutely wrecked expression on his face.

Let me see.

Gingerly, Trent obeys and unzips his fly, tugging down his pants and pulling at the waistband of his boxers. Sure enough, a large wet patch had formed on his underwear, and your smile widens.

Keep them on for me for the whole day. It’ll remind you who you belong to.


	190. Dollification

Hold still.

Pretty little doll, Brian thinks to himself while applying the blush to Trent’s sallow cheeks. This will give him some color. Trent shifts restlessly in his seat, the silk and puff of the dress rustling as he moves. Out of all the ugliest, poor patterned dresses Brad owned, this one is actually perfect. He had no problem lending it to Brian after figuring out what he needed it for. Brian smirks, remembering the cunning smile that grew on his bassist’s face once he realized.

Have fun playing with that one tonight.

Turns out Trent has no problem taking the humiliation kink to the next level as he fingers the hem of his skirt and blushes deeply when Brian’s free hand goes up his dress, caressing his leg. Sure do make a pretty girl, Brian says aloud and laughs quietly, teasingly, thinking that at this point Trent doesn’t even need blush. He knows he will be a “good girl” for him as well. Trent lives for the degradation Brian, a certified sadist, has to offer; more than that, he relishes it, the stinging slap, the burn of the rope, the sting of mocking remarks and humiliating comments. Perhaps he’s more restless because Brian isn’t doing anything more at the moment. Impatient. Needy.

Brian decides to take that chance to hook a finger into the ribbon formed in a quaint little bow around his slender throat and hauls him up from the chair, watching the skirt bounce around his hips with hungry eyes. If he has to be completely honest with himself, Brian’s mouth waters at the sight of Trent’s white legs in those unbearable high heels. The way he nearly stumbles over in them. The way his breath hitches just a little at the tight corset Brian let him borrow underneath the dress. And the puffed sleeves… Fuck…

Gently, Brian lays down his toy, splayed across the mattress of the bed, noticing the way the flimsy skirt rides up, exposing more of his creamy thighs in those thin nylons. He groans inwardly and runs just one long finger down Trent’s leg, pleased with the heavy, lust-filled sigh that breaks from his lips. His cupid’s bow arches just so as he opens his mouth; Brian longs to kiss it, but he holds back, continuing to stroke his legs without pause or thought.

You enjoy being objectified like this?

Brian swears if Trent bites his lower lip like that again, he’ll fuck him into the mattress and leave a dent.

Hold your legs up.

Trent obeys, grasping them by the ankles and pulling them back so they rest slightly against the headboard, and instantly, Brian curses under his breath at the obscene sight of him. He can fucking see his naked ass through his nylons, knew that Trent purposely forgot to wear underwear.

You fucking slut.

Fuck me like a slut, Trent retorts with a wry grin only moaning aloud when Brian moves in to rub his hardened, clothed member against his cute, little ass.

 


	191. Ego

It’s not like this was just a mandatory thing. Trent wants to be better. He wants to follow the steps, remember them, honor them, prove to himself and you, who he loves so much, that he can and will be better. Not only spiritually and mentally, but physically as well, proving his method of recovery to be the perfect distraction not only for him but for you as well.

It is quite the distraction to you.

You watch the glistening sweat pour down his brow, drip down his back as it dampens his skin-tight t-shirt, and you bite your lip self-consciously, knowing you’re staring. His growing, forming muscles in his back and arms almost seem to ripple and pulse with every move he makes in the spacious gym, every time he reaches for one of the weights to do an arm curl or two. His muscles almost pop out of his skin with every flex, which makes you feel as though your very eyes could pop out of their sockets as you stare so, so blatantly. But there’s something else too.

Trent notices everything, and a slow, calculating smirk grows on his face at the sight of your obvious restlessness. Perhaps just by the hungry expression on your face, he knows how you long to run your hands, smooth them along every inch of his skin, feeling his growing muscles, hard as rocks right now, and count each freckle along his flesh. That’s exactly what you would like to do and more of course. Trent’s smirk widens and with a long, drawn out sigh, maybe with a hint of an aroused moan in the back of his throat, he continues his reps, adding more weight, of course to impress you.

You’re beyond impressed.

Perhaps he hears the slight moan from under your quiet breaths and chuckles a little to himself. Trent doesn’t just want to do his best for you and for himself; he wants to boast his talents (not like he doesn’t already have many as it is), show off so to speak because he knows he can amaze you. Fuck, all he has to do is flick out his tongue to lick his lips while he performs these reps and you’re all his.

And he fucking knows it.

You’ve always known he’s had an ego the size of an elephant, but you can’t help but want to inflate it just a little bit, especially when he’s doing something that absolutely makes your mouth water. Enjoying the view? he asks you to which you can only nod, leaning back to continue watching the show. He already knew the answer to that one, but maybe he just wants to hear your answer. In fact, half of you longs to smack that ever widening grin off his face while the other half wishes to smother him in kisses you’ve been saving for after his exercising session.

If his body wasn’t beautiful before, which it absolutely was, it certainly is now, and you want to see more. Much more. Every inch of his body, every rippling muscle, drenched in sweat. The image alone that crosses your mind makes you nearly sweat yourself, and you lick your lips, waiting for him to put down the weights and wipe off his face with the lone towel.

You want to lick every drop of sweat from his body, and he fucking knows it.


	192. That Good

You feel so full, all at once, and the overstimulation is so great that you cry out in the muddled ecstasy that you had felt so greatly before.

Brian takes you from behind, each thrust deep inside you, deep into your ass is like a painful jab, deliciously painful. Trent takes your front smoothly, hips jutting into your pelvic bone with each easy thrust. He’s so used to you, how he can slide into you like it is nothing, but you can never be used to his size, how full and fulfilling he feels within your wet walls. But every time he pulls out, you can only whimper before Brian decides to push back into your ass, leaving you filled up once again. Back and forth, never allowing you a break. While Trent continues to fuck into you with animalistic passion, Brian busies himself with caressing your neck with his full, painted lips as his free that isn’t stroking your throat snakes down towards the heat between your legs.

He wants to see you come again; they both do, and Trent ruts into you wildly as Brian rubs and fingers at your clit, the both of them drawing out long, high-pitched, whorish whines from your lips. It’s strangled, from the back of your throat, and Trent grins before catching your face and drawing you in for a heated, sloppy kiss. Brian continues to mouth at your bare neck, offering thrust after thrust in between Trent’s, and you whine and whimper in such a needy way that makes the both of them chuckle while also making them desire to see you come one more time.

You’re spent and exhausted, back arching, thighs and arms twitching as each wave of pleasure, however great or small, washes over you continuously, mercilessly, only allowing you a break as it begins to fade. You still writhe through it, drawing out your shudders breaths through your high, your broken moans becoming less and less audible while both men fucking you cease their movements. You have never felt anything like it, and you’re more in shock at the aftermath of it than anything.

But they ever expect you to start crying.

Trent immediately wonders what’s wrong as he pulls out, and Brian follows shortly after, throwing away the condom and drawing back in for a sweet kiss. The both of them, these two beautiful men pull you down to the sheets and pillows with them, letting you lie in between.

It was so good… is all you can really manage to murmur against their kisses and caresses. You can hear the smirk in Trent’s voice when he says he’s relieved, and you purr sweetly when Brian thanks you. Both Brian and Trent hold you close and tight as you begin to relax, muttering sweet nothings into your ears, making you feel loved and protected. You smile softly as you shut your eyes and nestle deeper into the warmth of their strong arms.

The three of you fall fast asleep wrapped up in each other.


	193. First Time while Dating

Trent hovers over you, reaches around, and opens the drawer at the intable by his bed, making you wonder what exactly he has up his sleeve. Moreover, your eyes can’t stop wandering over to his naked cock prodding your thigh while he does so.

He pulls out a box of condoms and removes one from the rest, waving it in the air with a quizzical look on his face. He looks so cute and sweet that way, caring, maybe just a bit of concern flitting over his handsome face. Then he asks if maybe perhaps, you’d want to try and, well, take this further tonight? You are silent for at least five seconds, long enough for him to quickly say you don’t have to if you don’t want to and long enough for you to come to a decision to which you nod quietly, a small smile on your face.

Are you sure?

This time Trent really is inquisitive, more concern across his face, fingering the condom gently. But you assure him, there’s nothing more you’d rather do with him right now. So he smiles, kisses your thigh, and moves his position back down with a small chuckle, reminding you in that husky voice of his that he’s not done with you down here yet. One long lick from his amazing tongue, and you return to the moaning mess you were, writhing beneath his mouth and listening to his breathy sounds of awe he makes.

Trent rips open the condom packet, a sound you didn’t think you’d hear again. He slides it on his nearly hard length, offering you another kiss to your lips, a kiss that he will be so gentle; he’ll take care of you.

The first time he slides into you, slowly, gradually is when you really feel him inside you, stretching you out, making you let out a drawn out, high-pitched whine that he can’t help but grin triumphantly at. Trent takes that as his cue to move in and out of you, causing more friction and making you ask for more spit. He obliges and then stops, saying he wants to try something real quick. Your heart is pounding. And it doesn’t stop pounding when he suddenly changes positions.

He has you on your right side, left leg up in the air and resting easily on his shoulder as he enters you one more time. You can’t help but think how erotic this is, how incredibly new this is to you, how you’re practically reeling at being this fucking close to him. You’re in awe of him, the way he moves back and forth deep inside you, drawing out those moans from your parted, wet lips and the way his beautiful shoulder length hair brushes against your neck as he buries his face in your own hair. You want more, and so he moves two of those pretty piano fingers down to rub at your clit in slow, enticing circles. You let out a sob like moan, and Trent smirks down at you before moving in for yet another kiss.

Let me know when you’re going to come… you beg through gasps, moaning out as his strokes get faster and more urgent.

Trent nods wildly, feeling himself go over the edge himself. You’re so warm and wet and tight around him; he feels he can come any second now. He tells you so and instantly pulls out, throwing off the condom and stroking himself down rapidly until you feel that hot mess shoot out of him and all over your chest. You gasp, the corners of your mouth turning up into a satisfied smile as he leans down to lick it up himself. Hot.

Trent tells you he wants to cuddle afterwards, something you definitely can’t say no to. The two of you lay in bed just like that, wrapped up in each other’s arms, you yourself enjoying how strong and protective he feels around you.


	194. Sampling

Trent likes to bring a tape recorder in when he fucks you.

Between the two of you, you just so happen to be the loudest in the bedroom, and Trent likes to call it an “artists inspiration”. That’s exactly what he says when he lays you down on the mattress, a towel lying underneath and an evident smirk on his beautiful, rough-looking face. He pulls out a few other things too, latex gloves pulled on up to the elbow, toys out, lube pumped onto his fingers.

You almost squeak. It’s way too erotic watching him prepare, watching him work. And then one lubed up finger rubs your clit, tenderly, in small circles, making you moan out maybe too shamelessly. He’ll gag you later, he shrugs. For now, he simply wants to hear all the sounds you can make from just the tip of his finger. He adores the effect he has on you. The one that has you writhing and moaning on the bed, tied up perhaps, completely and utterly debauched, wrecked, everything you love that comes from what he can do to you. Trent hides his devious smirk as he works; you’re too easy to get wound up, and he’ll have too many samples of your noises to go through when this is all over.

Perhaps he should just compile a track consisting of the sounds of ecstasy, pain, and pleasure that you make, no music, just noise. Not like that alone surprises you. He’d call it something degrading like “Flesh” or “Squealing Slave”, something that alludes to that of the theme of a pig, like in most of his tracks, but it only arouses you further, the way you allow him to treat you. You let out a long, high sigh from the back of your throat as he easily slides one finger into, the familiar sting fleeting to you, and Trent groans inwardly, chuckling to himself at your expense.

How cute. Why don’t you make that noise again, hmm?

A squeaking whimper falls from your lips when he instantly and without warning bites into your thigh. He has you under his control tonight, and it’s only a matter of time before you are screaming his name, begging him, babbling, just to come. (He made you abstain an entire week; he’ll get the best noises out of you that way.) He can’t believe his ears when he hears you ask already. Pathetic. You blush deeply at that scathing verbal jab that falls from his beautiful, beautiful lips. If anything, you’d like to be kissed while he tortures you this way.

You think this is about what you want? That’s precious.

Ah, you’ve forgotten, you whimper quietly. He just wants to use you tonight. “Artist’s inspiration”, and all that, and _fuck,_ does it make you wetter. Trent notices and sticks two fingers in after applying more lube, circling his thumb around your clit teasingly, ever-so-slightly. You protest incoherently, beg some more, perhaps thrash a little and buck your hips up on the bed, but his free hand slams down on your tummy, holding you in place and silently ordering you to stop _fucking_ moving.

You’re so wet, he bets he can practically hear himself fuck you, the obscene sounds your pussy will make when he finally does. An idea, Trent decides, pulling out his fingers, if it isn’t the best idea he’s had all day.

Maybe it’s time to take the obscenity of his musical career to the next level.


	195. Rehab

The first day is always the hardest, but realizing this one flaw trumps everything else.

Trent sits in the car, motionless, silent, unresponsive for a very long time. The both of you had been sitting in front of the local rehabilitation center for about fifteen minutes. Each minute that passes seems like an hour to you just watching him, probably a millennia to him. Perhaps he thinks if he waits and sits there long enough, then he won’t have to go in. You both know that thought alone is futile in this situation.

You made up your mind first, bringing up the option of rehab, explaining your feelings, feelings of dread of how far away he is to you, feelings of fear, how you don’t know him anymore. Trent argues, of course. He’s in control. He’s always been in control. But maybe that’s been another lie as well, and he flinches at the truth in those words as well. The bitter, ugly, blatant truth. He’s slipping; deep down he knows it, but he doesn’t want to admit it. You can’t make him do this; it’s his decision after all, but every fear, fear of failure mainly weighs him down like chains of his own making. His heart is heavy and he doesn’t think he can make the first step on his own.

That is why you’re there to help him do it, you reassure him.

But how can he trust those words alone?

He doesn’t even know who he is anymore. People have left. People will always leave. People have died around him, all close, now distant, gone forever, some that he thinks is even his own fault, and you wish and pray so fervently that you could dash that poisonous thought from his tormented mind in a heartbeat. But that will take time.

It all will.

But you know he can do it. He’s made it this far.

The cogs in Trent’s brain run a mile a minute, thoughts surging through his mind to no avail, and yet another glimpse of his world crashing around him. Like it had again and again and again… He can’t believe he’s crying until he feels the wet, hot sensation of the first stinging tear slide down his cheek. Each tear for someone else, someone who had been close: Chris, Brian, Grandma Clara, Maise, Tori, everyone…

But you…

You’re still here.

You pull him into your arms, a loving embrace that he melts into, drying his tears with his fists, wiping his nose against his sleeve. At this point, you see how vulnerable Trent really is and how much he needs someone to fall back on. You think of the life you almost lost that day, but he’s still here. He’s still here, breathing, heart beating, blood pumping, maybe all weakly at first, but he’s beginning again. Starting anew. Because you haven’t left him. Because he feels he has a purpose to live again. Fresh. Real. All those memories are still there, memories of being alone in that house, willing himself to die, memories of everyone shutting him out of their life, memories that won’t leave, but for the first time he manages to look back at them right in the face, knowing that he can be stronger than their presence. Stronger for you.

You kiss the top of his head, pull away slightly, and ask him if he wants to go in now.

Trent takes a deep breath.

Then he opens the door.


	196. Bad Student

You don’t like Michael Trent Reznor, plain and simple.

If one were to ask you what word you would associate with that young man, if any word at all, “brat” is the only you can come up with that applies in the fullest sense. And Reznor is the worst brat you’ve ever had to deal with in your class. A grade-A jerk, a real pretentious, little shit, one who likes to mouth off to you every chance he got, in class, outside of class; it doesn’t matter. He does whatever he can to terrorize you, and you can’t stand the punk.

If Trent had a theme song, it would be “Hot for Teacher” by Van Halen.

You hate the way he swaggers in through your door. He’s growing his hair out, you notice, and you hate that you notice it. It looks rather cute in the most obnoxious way. Countless times you have ordered him to keep it trimmed in an orderly way, keep to the dress code, and countless times he has managed to slip through your fingers, dodge every little demand you give like it’s the plague. Those steely, cunning green eyes stare into your own smugly; he looks ready to fight, or is it just you? The entire classroom is empty except for the two of you, and you can feel the inevitable, uncomfortable silence crawl over your shoulders as he quietly sits down at the first available desk, right in front of you.

Maybe he’ll mouth off to you again. Say something really inappropriate, something that could get him suspended, borderline expelled, but you won’t do that. You’ll just snap your fingers, crook one finger at him, tell him to get over here _now_. His eyes will widen when you order him to bend himself over your desk. You can’t help but wonder how cute his butt will look in those fancy pants he always wears. Even more cute when you give them a good, sharp tug, pulling them down, giggling at the sheer sight of his pale, white ass staring up at while he quivers and waits painfully on your desk.

How red it will look later. After smack after smack after smack… You always considered the best thing for him was a good spanking. Perhaps he’ll make a few noises, some that will embarrass him, make him blush, and make you smirk smugly. He won’t be talking back; he’ll only be whimpering, maybe begging for you to hit him some more. You’ll oblige; you’ve wanted to do this for so, so long, and you will keep doing it until your hand gets tingly, stinging from slamming it down repeatedly, blow after blow on Trent’s sweet ass.

Sweet ass?

You’re imagining it again. Imagining how much you’ll relish in punishing him, hearing more of those noises and pleas as you go.

You blink, staring straight at Trent, who remains looking as smug as usual. He’s waiting, and you swear to God, if he opens his mouth once during this session, you’re worried you may act on your thoughts.

Perhaps he knows exactly what’s on your mind, you think while watching him flick his tongue out to lick his lips.

What a tease.


	197. Hate Fuck

Trent grasps a fistful of your hair, giving you a good, hard yank, painful, making you moan and growl dangerously. You’re like a wild animal, his animal, but you fight it, reaching your hands up to grab at the dark locks of his hair, tugging in an unrestrained manner while he kisses you. It doesn’t seem like a kiss to either of you, more like his mouth slamming against yours, moving around sloppily, wetly. Perhaps not lovingly, but it feels hot and passionate, and you groan greedily into his mouth.

As soon as he feels your hands reach his hair, Trent snatches them, yanks them away, and keeps them pinned at your sides while he continues to attack your mouth with his. Hastily, wildly, those perfect lips move down your neck, teeth sinking into your throat, making you cry out in pain and some sort of ecstasy.

Masochist… You like that? I could draw blood…

Don’t assume this changes anything, you growl. I still hate you. Hate your fucking guts…

Another tug at your hair and Trent sounds even more dangerous as he murmurs in an almost threatening way, God, shut _the fuck_ up.

Trent hoists you up, smirking at the uninhibited squeak as he wraps your legs around his waist, nails digging into your flesh, making you hiss at the sudden sharp pain he inflicts that you tend to crave so much. And he fucking knows it. You wonder if he is actually trying to break your back when he slams you up against it, keeping one of your legs up, hand on your thigh, nails pushing in further, sure to leave marks. You hope he does, so you can make him feel bad about them later, how he handles you so roughly, without thought. Everything about the way he handles and fucks you is raw and passionate and angry, something you relish and love despite the fact that you hate him so much right now.

Trent gazes into your eyes while he slides into you as easily as he holds you close. You stare right back defiantly, but you cannot help the small whimper you let out when he thrusts up into you suddenly. The corners of Trent’s perfect mouth curl while he watches you melt and surrender, much to your dismay, before his very eyes. It’s like the both of you battle violently for dominance, neither of you wanting to display any sign of weakness. Scratching, biting, and growling like a pair of ravenous wolves ready to devour, but the both of you can’t seem to win each other over.

You grip his shoulders, nails sliding down his back, burning trenches, reveling in his pain-filled gasp. He reaches for your throat while you hold on with your legs around his waist good and tight.

Gasps and moans and cries fill the silence of the room; they mingle with the obscene, glorious sound of skin slapping against skin, the dull thumping of your body rocking against the wall, everything in the midst of the sweat and flesh and groans. Trent’s hands tighten around your neck, and you manage to strike him across the face, ordering him, nearly begging him to fuck you harder. Trent’s smirk widens when he hears it, and he only obliges when you continue to beg, almost as though you’re drooling over it, something so humiliating, something he loves more than anything.

Bitch.

You manage to spit the insult at him but not without a few whimpers afterwards.


	198. Flashing Trent

You enjoy wearing Trent’s worn fishnets sometimes, but you don’t just wear them for no reason. You find them comfortable even if they are a bit coarse on your skin, but they also look incredibly sexy on you. Trent certainly thinks so.

Tease, he thinks, watching you bend over to grab something, the hem of your skirt riding up and exposing everything you’ve been “trying” to hide. He can only suck in the air through his teeth, the sound alone pained, strained, desperate. Little slut… Trent can’t do anything but stare at you revealing yourself in this way, eyes boring into your flesh; you can feel the heat of them and feel the hot flush of a rosy blush fan out over your skin. You do seem a bit vulnerable, but it’s all worth it, especially since it’s simply the two of you, alone. Anything can happen.

What the fuck do you think you are doing?

Upon hearing the change in tone of his husky voice, you stand upright, adjusting your skirt only a little, maybe pulling at the fishnets, letting them snap back before turning to face your lover. At this, Trent looks like he could devour you right then and there without any thought. You look delectable to him, a treat fit to eat, so you decide to take this little tease to the next level and offer him your best, most innocent “who, me?” look. Trent’s eyes are like fire, staring daggers into you, lips wet and parted while you show yourself off. How he’d love to have that mouth on you any second, tongue tasting you, teeth ripping at his own fishnets, just to get them off of you, just to see what is underneath.

Get the fuck over here.

Trent sounds calm, dangerously calm, and you can feel your own heart pound wildly inside of your chest. You can’t allow your demeanor to falter however, so you decide to obey, maintaining that smug look on your face, smug, triumphant, but the tables could turn. Trent knows how to make you melt; all it takes is the tip of his finger, sliding up your inner thigh and you’re all his, just for his to use.

Getting a hold of your right foot and placing it in his lap, Trent’s hands smooth up your covered leg, fingers playing with the fishnets a little. You sigh into his touch, but one sharp squeeze, nails digging into your thigh forces a high-pitched squeak out of you. One point for him. Trent sneers a little and tightens his grip on you, which arouses you immensely.

I know what you’re trying to do, and you’re lucky it’s working.

You mewl at his words, eyelids fluttering while you lean your head back, just aching for him to continue to touch you.

Look at you, you little whore. It’s a good thing you are wearing something so skimpy. I can just rip it all off of you.

Fuck, you wish he would.

Instantly, Trent pulls you in for a tongue-filled kiss, hot, searing, passionate. He’s ravenous for you, tongue searching inside, lips caressing your flesh, softly, eagerly, wildly, roughly. Trent decides to give you everything you want, but he does it on his own terms, sure to tease you himself just as you had to him. Perhaps he’ll punish you first for being such a needy, greedy little slut.

Of course, he ponders out loud, mostly to himself, those fishnets do look much better on you.


	199. Marry Me, Fuckface

It’s not even that romantic.

Brian mentally kicks himself, observing his entire setup for tonight. He doesn’t even think Trent will like it; sometimes he wonders how he ever manages to impress him due to the fact that the love of his life is entirely unreadable, but somehow, he manages.

The candles are lit (Trent loves them, all right?), and the food smells delicious, seen as how Brian is the one who prepared the meal- not Trent. He almost laughs at the absurd thought. Much like his persona on stage, Trent breaks and burns everything in sight whether accidental or intentional. He’s not really the domestic one in the relationship. This brings a small smile to Brian’s lips once more as he adjusts the silverware to perfection, breathes in the scent of the scented candles. Then he glances at his phone, checks the time. He’ll be here any second now, and Brian’s heart begins to pound wildly.

Feeling too anxious, he sits only to shoot up from the chair at the gentle knock on the door. He hears that soft, husky voice asking to let him in; he forgot his key again.

It’s pouring out, Brian realizes when he sees a rather drenched and cold Trent Reznor shivering before him, waiting impatiently to be let in and warm up. The sudden need to scoop him up in his arms and hold him close just to warm him himself surges through Brian, but he fights back the urge, directing Trent to the table, ready with the food, much to the latter’s surprise. Trent survey’s the display wordlessly, eyes unclear, lips parted just a little; Brian longs to kiss them, but he has to wait, work himself there, play up the theatrics. He’ll see it soon… down at the bottom…

Brian asks Trent if he would like some wine, and Trent, mouth full, can only nod before reaching for the bottle himself, until he stops, noticing something that really should not be in there in the first place. He swallows slowly, glances at Brian quickly, the cogs in his mind turning, his beautiful green eyes revealing his realization. Then he snatches the bottle of wine like a snake, bringing it close to his face, studying the small object, the light catching off of it winking at him from within. Then he smiles; Brian watches the corners of his perfect lips turn up eagerly, ecstatically, and then he begins to laugh.

How the fuck am I supposed to--?

Brian stops him abruptly, taking the bottle himself and throwing it across the room, beaming at the second peal of laughter that erupts from Trent’s mouth. The glass shatters, liquor everywhere, staining the walls like “pig- a grotesque display of what led them to their relationship together. Brian bends down, picks up the ring, a simple band, and dries it off with a cloth napkin before turning to Trent, who stands there, smile so wide; Brian nearly forgot when it exactly was the last time he smiled that big.

Marry me?

Don’t ask me, fuckface, just put it on my fucking finger.

Did his voice just break?

Brian does so anyway, hands gentle over Trent’s, thumb smoothing over his piano fingers. It fits like a glove, but Brian has no time to admire it on him before Trent captures his lips with his own, mashing his nose against his, running his fingers through his long, dark hair.

Just two dumb kids who shouldn’t fall in love, right?

Shut the fuck up, Reznor. Don’t make me regret asking you.

Trent can only grin and kisses him again.


	200. Double-sided Dildo

As soon as you feel it slide into you, you let out a long sigh of pleasure. It feels perfect inside of you, as perfect as the harness that fits snugly around your hips. A perfect toy that you can still use on your toy. You grasp the other end of the dildo and inch closer on your knees towards the cutest, little fucktoy that presents himself to you. Trent looks entirely vulnerable and fuckable like this, ass up in the air, gaping from the plug you had so eagerly placed inside him earlier. How he whined at the stretch. Now he simply bends over, shivering submissively, maybe muttering under his breath soft pleas for you to fuck him- he can’t wait any longer.

Aligning the slick toy up with his waiting hole, you slowly, gradually push in, eyes widening at the sheer sight of Trent’s ass stretching around you. A long, guttural moan escapes his wet parted lips, and it urges you to continue, slowly and gently rolling your hips into him, each slight thrust sending him into spasms and babbling groans and whines. You relish each sound it makes, and with every thrust you give him, it sends pleasure deep inside you, and you join him loudly with a few moans and groans and sighs as well.

Harder. Please…

Is Trent telling you what to do? Does he suddenly think he has the right? The audacity… You shake your head, tittering softly. That won’t do. That won’t do at all. To shut him up, you slide two fingers underneath the collar around his neck, hoist him up on his knees, and proceed to gag him with your free hand, fingers reaching down his throat, making him choke- a beautiful sound.

The ball gag looks perfect in his mouth. You smirk smugly, hands on his hips once more as you ease yourself into him once again. Trent’s eyes abruptly cross upon being filled up again; the sensation is intense, and it almost seems like a growl reaches your ears.

That good, huh?

Trent can only nod his head wildly, making you laugh outright. You slow just a bit to let him catch his breath but can’t believe your eyes when he starts rocking his ass back against the dildo. Each time he gets right up against the hilt of it, he lets out a hiss of pain-filled pleasure.

Look at you swallowing my thick cock whole.

You decide not to talk anymore if you can help the quiet moans and whimpers that escape your lips. You’re in control, you remember, but the thick silicone cock inside of you is more than you can handle and you moan out rather loud obscenities as you continue to fuck him frantically. The rough, unrestrained thrusts has him drooling, begging for more; he doesn’t want you to stop, and quite frankly, you have no intention of stopping, especially since you are on the verge of coming yourself. The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin is not the only noise that fills the large room. You watch the sweat drip down Trent’s back, finger the sweat-soaked tendrils that stick to his neck before sliding your hand down to caress his hip.

Trent purrs, tells you as best as he can against the gag that he needs to come, practically leans into your touch; he can’t get enough of you. You move in close so that your lips practically rest against his ear, warm breath fanning out over his skin, making him tremble in anticipation.

All good things to those who wait, baby boy.


	201. Vocal Baby

You roll your hips slowly one last time, pleased with the high-pitched, cracking whine below you. If you really had a dick, you’d reel over the way Trent’s cute little ass tightens around it. Regardless you marvel over how it clenches beneath your gaze, eyes widening in astonishment and glee over the most intoxicated and adorable sounds he makes. Sounds that make you moan as well, moaning even louder at that silicone that rubs against your swollen clit.

Trent lies on his back in a frog-tie, trembling from that strange and unfamiliar sensation of being impaled over and over again by some foreign toy, by you, your eyes glittering dominantly.

Don’t come yet.

His eyes widen at your demand, and perhaps there’s a sense of danger he feels with your words, a cutting edge as you slide in deeper, roll your hips ever so slightly just to get him to feel even more of you inside of him. Trent whimpers, mumbles something incoherently, the gag in his mouth hindering him from making perfect sense. You giggle just a little, watching him squirm around the toy, almost pushing himself on it deeper. Your titter becomes laughter when he squeaks. He didn’t mean to do that to himself.

If you don’t stop moving, I’ll just keep teasing you.

You cock your head to the side, thinking of even more diabolical ways to torment him into screaming for you to let him fucking come.

I’ll bring you to the brink of blowing your load, and then? I’ll simply stop, watch you writhe and sob in frustration.

Another whimper falls from Trent’s compromised lips, and he looks at you with those pretty, pathetic, pleading green eyes. You thought you almost heard him say ‘please’ through the gag but you pretend you didn’t notice. Instead you offer a sharp thrust deep inside of him, and the sound that escapes is high-pitched, ridiculous; no one would expect Trent mother-fucking Reznor to act this way, all desperate and hot and whiny. In fact, he won’t stop making so much noise. It irritates you. Even with the gag in, he still manages to let a few curses and screams of denied pleasure escape his lips. Even if you move just a little, a small sound will reach your ears, begging you to have mercy; he could just burst.

Bet you love this.

Trent groans, arching his back when you continue to fuck him.

The denial makes the reward even sweeter, precious. If you don’t stop with this unseemly behavior, you’re only punishing and denying yourself further.

Trent looks like he’s about to cry. His leaking cock practically twitches and moves, stands on end with each thrust reaching that spot that nearly sends him over the edge. He screams once when you hit it again, that sound alone begging you to relent or just allow him to fucking come already. He looks radiant like this, a pretty little slut, all debauched and edged to torturing yet unattainable pleasure. It’s right there, just out of his reach, so he arches his back again, fucking himself against your strap-on. It’s a breathtaking sight, and you almost let him come right there- if he would just stop his endless begging. It is unintelligible, yet you know exactly what he wants.

Too bad, baby doll.

You shake your head.

Too much noise.


	202. Masochist

His face says it all. Trent Reznor is blissfully happy every time you so much as raise your hand in warning and strike it across his cheek. His eyes gaze up at you longingly, like he wants you to do it again, and you do; there’s a definite blotchy red mark on his cheek when you finally decide to relent. You pull back, stand up straighter, and smirk to yourself, staring hard down at him.

Trent loves pain if that hasn’t already been established.

His watery eyes, the drool dripping down his chin, and that sweet, hopeful smile you’ll hit him again says so. He’s kneeling on the floor compliantly with his arms hanging lifelessly at his sides, completely naked, and staring at you as patiently as he can, waiting for your next order or your next course of action. The sound of you unzipping your fly perks his ears up instantly, and Trent shifts restlessly, almost whimpering like a fucking puppy at the mere noise.

Open your mouth.

He obeys immediately, opening it wide, more tears from getting hit streaming from the corners of his eyes. You pull out a gag of sorts, like a dental retractor and bend down a little to hold him in place and fasten it inside his mouth and around his head. He looks utterly ridiculous, but he loves the humiliation, you think to yourself. With a throaty sigh, you pull out your semi and tap it teasingly, degradingly against Trent’s cheek, watching his pretty eyes flutter warily, like he’s preparing if you’ll hit him with it. The thought makes you chuckle. Then without a warning, you thrust inside, not bothering to let him adjust. It’s like fucking a pussy, warm and wet and easy when ready.

Trent chokes and whines when you grab him roughly by his hair and hold him there, taking in every inch. He’ll lose air if you don’t let him go, so you only decide to release as soon as you notice his eyes begin to flutter. Trent falls back, coughing and sputtering against the retractor, and you laugh outright.

Take it off. On the bed.

Still wheezing, Trent obeys, blinking back more tears and wiping away the excess saliva as he climbs onto the mattress.

On your back.

Trent lies flat on his back, each limb tied to each corner of the bed, open and vulnerable and so, so pretty just like that. He squirms just a little beneath your gaze, biting his lower lip and eyeing you, anticipating your next move. If he doesn’t stop that… That doe-eyed look and those delicious-looking lips force a moan out of you. You could fuck him now, but that’s what he wants. You decide to give him more surprises full of red delights that could just make him scream your fucking name. Trent is happy to be your victim; he would wear his voice out if it meant taking your thick cock all day.

Might as well get this over with so you can fuck him.

Frayed whip in hand, you raise it and waste no time in bringing it down on his flawless, pale flesh. Trent let’s out a grunt to begin with, but you want to hear more, so you give him three in a row, each one harder than the last. The last one has him crying out, red welts forming on his chest and tummy.

You want more?

Trent nods wildly.

Good boy.


	203. When You're Talking in Your Sleep

Trent Reznor is often a busy man; it can be difficult watching him leave even just next door for sessions and further down the road for interviews and even late night gigs. Most of the time, you’re asleep before he even gets home, and he realizes he misses your company when he beholds you lying in your shared bed, curled up like a cat, and breathing evenly, fast asleep.

This brings a soft, relieved smile to his lips. You haven’t left yet, he reassures himself and removes everything down to his boxers, crawling into bed with you and snuggling under the covers, close to your side, arms wrapping around your waist. You just barely stir but remain asleep, mumbling something to yourself in a sort of dream-like state. Trent hears it and softly shushes you, encouraging you not to wake up, just stay with him like this. After a long day like this, it’s good to come home and simply be. Nothing more. Just with your company, Trent reminds himself in his mind as he rubs his cheek against your shoulder. If you were awake, the growing stubble would tickle. You merely moan contentedly in your dreams, imagining a lovesick puppy begging for your affection.

Trent kisses the dip between your shoulder and neck just before he begins to nod off. He can hardly keep his eyes open until he hears the words you attempt to form, just under your breath, a sort of mumble that makes him sit up a little to watch you. The expression on his face changes from exhaustion to curiosity; it softens, and he waits just to listen.

The first thing he hears is a short, amused sigh; he hopes you are having sweet dreams, and just to reassure you that he missed you as well, Trent leans down to brush a soft kiss to your cheek.

Miss you…

Trent stops, heart full of love for you at the sound of your voice, lost in sleep and wandering through your dreams of him. Just at the inflection of your tones when you speak his name, Trent knows that you think of him often when he is away, and he settles back down next to you, sure to pull you close and flush against his warm chest, hoping that his presence alone with you will offer you more pleasant dreams throughout the night so that you will wake up in the morning knowing that he is still here. As if you know that he is there with you, you turn and press the side of your face against his chest, resting your hands against him and pressing your body closer, as close as you can get.

He makes you feel safe even when you aren’t aware that he is there.

Love you…

Trent runs his fingers through your hair and breathes in the scent of you, sighing blissfully. Somehow you do know he’s with you, and in your dreams you hear him say it back.

I love you too.


	204. Public Sex

You had decided to dress prepared for the evening and think to yourself that you dressed ready for what exactly Trent had in mind as he leads you hand in hand through the throbbing crowd of pulsating bodies that writhe and sway and bounce together like some freak orgy. Perhaps it is, you think to yourself as you observe it all in awe, maybe a little anxious, definitely a little aroused. Trent’s hand is warm, engulfing yours as he pulls you along, and once or twice he looks back to catch your eye with the most devilish smile on his face.

The two of you become a part of the throng, mingling in with the breaths and sweat of the rest of them. Trent pulls you by your hips towards him, flush against his body and slowly moves his large, capable hands up your sides, drawing out a shuddered sigh from your lips. You raise your arms in response and rock your body like a wave against him, dancing with the rest of them; Trent only watches you with soft yet piercing eyes, watches your every move as his hands do the rest of the work of rubbing your lower half against his, of moving your body himself like his very own doll. The friction of your gyration sends a moan out of your from the back of your throat, and Trent’s grip on you tightens. His soft encouragements urge you on.

The music doesn’t change, only pulses with every beat, grows louder through the speakers and straight through your bones, making you shiver against him. All the sounds and smells and sights send you on a sensory overload. Trent’s cologne floods your nose and makes you swoon almost, drowning in his musk; you’re trapped between him and the wall, you find and the lights fall, flickering strobe lights above.

It’s risky.

But you part your legs and hike up your skirt anyway, eyeing Trent wantonly. You make him out through the darkness, hovering over you dominantly, hands against the wall on either side of your head, his member poking your thigh. You respond quickly, wrapping one leg around his waist possessively. With a grunt, he enters you in one fluid motion and thrusts in and out slowly. The rhythm of the music catches on however, and Trent fucks into you steadily, the deep sensation of his cock mixing with the pounding of the music. You feel your eyes roll back as each thrust sends you closer and closer towards the peak of ecstasy.

It looks like the both of you are dancing in time to the music, wrapped in a passionate embrace; no one can see what lies in between.

The song nears its end, but Trent continues to fuck you into that wall, his own grunts and growls sending you into soft moans and spasms. You finally come, nails digging into the leather of his jacket, raking down his bare chest, teeth biting your lower lip in a desperate need to keep from screaming loud enough for everyone to hear. Trent refuses to come inside you though- someone would probably notice his spunk running down your legs. He eases himself out of you with a sigh and looks at you pleadingly, breaths coming out in short huffs. You grin and grab his hand after he tucks himself back into his pants and attempts to cover his boner.

The two of you decide to search for a bathroom.

Maybe you’ll get some actual privacy.


	205. Which One Do You Want?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DO NOT READ IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU!!! INCEST WARNING!!! OKAY?!?! Just because I write this (since it was a request) doesn't mean I condone.

Brian slams the door shut with an abrupt and frustrated huff, and Trent can tell just behind the magazine he reads before he quickly shoves it underneath the pillow behind him that Brian doesn’t really seem to be in the talking mood. But as the older brother, he decides to pry and press until Brian eventually spills every detail. A good listener but a nosy son of a bitch. He prides himself on being both.

“All right,” he says knowingly, watching his younger brother kick everything out of his way and throw his backpack to one end of the room. “Spill it.”

Trent watches Brian’s face scrunch up, and he almost giggles outright. He knows he is trying not to cry; Brian always tends to attempt to maintain the “tough guy” persona. “Got kicked off the football team…” he mumbles, setting the rest of his books on his own bed and then moving to slump down next to Trent on his.

Trent frowns. “That’s rough.”

“And I just figured out today that Louise wasn’t sick. Sick my ass- the bitch was pretending to have mono or some shit just to blow me off. We fucked once and now she can’t stand the sight of me just because everyone spread the rumor that I got crabs… Which wasn’t true by the way!”

“Dumb bitch,” Trent snorts.

Brian sighs, exasperated, blinks once. “I’m eighteen and graduating in a month, Trent. How the fuck am I going to survive college if I can’t get laid without some chick hating my guts for no reason afterward? Can’t even get a handjob because everyone thinks I have fucking crabs!”

“Okay, okay, calm down,” Trent soothed. “I don’t think you have crabs. Hell, I know you don’t have crabs.”

Brian wrinkled his nose, hardly turning to look his way and murmured disinterestedly, “Yeah, but you’re my brother, fuckface. Anyway, you’re supposed to tease me about these things.”

“So?” Trent shrugged, squirming a little in bed, arm rubbing against Brian’s, and Brian has to admit one thing to himself: it is starting to feel pretty damn nice as those little shivers run up and down his spine. He brushes it off quickly, but Trent continues to speak, saying something that leaves Brian feeling like someone had slapped in the face. “Do you want one or not?” Brian instantly turns to look at him, eyes wary, mouth slightly open in question. He cannot believe his ears, and for the first few seconds, he doesn’t know what to say.

“Do I want… what?”

“A handjob,” Trent states casually, eyelids fluttering, “or a blowjob. You decide.”

“A-a han- Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a second! What the fuck are you insinuating? You’re my fucking brother! What the fuck?”

Trent actually laughs at how flustered Brian acts; he does this cute thing were his eyes go really wide and it makes his eyebrows arch in an adorable way. Trent likes that. “And I’m fucking bored, Bri. College boys just don’t have as many problems as you do and they don’t always come crying to me for comfort. Not to mention, you haven’t been masturbating for about two weeks, so you’re obviously backed up. And don’t think I haven’t noticed you getting rowdy under the covers during the night because I do. I know everything. So what’ll it be.” It isn’t a question; it’s a statement, and Brian is speechless. Then he goes red, beet red, stark contrast to his pale skin, another feature Trent finds adorable.

“A handjob…” Brian finally mumbles, and Trent grins innocently.

“Cool,” he says, sitting up from the pillows and getting into position on his side, making two fingers tiptoe down Brian’s stomach towards his crotch. “Haven’t broken in my bed since school and now I get the chance to do it.”

“Stop that,” Brian smacks Trent’s hand away and huffs out a sigh, accepting the situation because Trent is actually very, very correct in his assumption. He hasn’t masturbated. In weeks. And he could use some attention down there if he is being perfectly honest. “Just do it already.”

Trent laughs. “What kind of a brother would I be if I didn’t help you out a little?” Brian jumps. His fly is unzipped, and Trent just spat into his hand, using the other to reach down past the waistband of his underwear. “Please tell me you showered though.”

Brian stares at him, nostrils flaring, the obvious anticipation of what his brother is about to do for him rattling his brain and his nerves. “Fuck you.”

“That’s cute,” Trent snorts, grabbing ahold of the thing between Brian’s legs and giving it a starting, teasing squeeze, “but no. That’s illegal, and what we’re doing is illegal enough.”

Brian lets out a sharp curse as Trent pulls out his cock, twitching and stiffening as he runs one slender finger down the underside. With his other spit-slick hand wrapped around him, he steadily begins pumping up and down, earning a definite, short hiss from Brian. He hums a little at the reaction but doesn’t do much else except for maintaining the rhythm he has on his member. Brian on the other hand is a perfect mess, keeping his hands firmly pinned at his sides, nails digging into the sheets mercilessly. It’s amazing what lull in sexual activity can do for his drive. More curses spill from his lips as Trent suddenly changes the give and position of his hand and fingers on his cock. Did he just fucking moan? Oh no.

“Trent… I…”

“You want my mouth?”

Brian shoots a look in his direction. “What?”

“My mouth. On your cock. Yes or no?” Trent speeds up a little, and Brian practically squeals, the sound barely escaping his lips as Trent’s hand slams against his lips keeping him quiet. He’s still waiting for an answer, and Brian merely nods.

Brian instantly realizes why Trent is known as the “frat slut” on his campus.

His mouth is warm and wet, better than Louise’s cunt, and Brian bites down hard on his lower lip, certain to draw blood. “Oh god, I’m gonna come!” he cries and Trent immediately moves up from his cock.

“Already?” He sounds disappointed. What the fuck. Trent shrugs just the same and speeds up the rhythm of his hand, gasping softly as his brother’s cum spills out over his hand and splatters a little on his abdomen. “Jesus… Feeling better?”

“I… you- yes.” Brian blushes as he stammers and gives his final answer to which his older brother grins cheekily.

“Good.” Trent wipes his mess on his tummy and gives him a little pat before getting up to wash his hands. “Take a shower. You smell like spunk. And don’t steal my magazine from underneath that pillow. If you do, I’ll assume you’re bi.” Grinning like the devil, he makes his exit.


	206. She

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Fem!Trent.

Your roommate is pretty attractive, you think to yourself as the both of you unpack in your dorm. You haven’t really gotten a good look at her face but she has a nice back, dressed in short black shorts and an oversized tank. You can see her bra and can’t help but stare, hard, curiously. She straightens. You stop, resume what you were doing before, trying to hide your obvious sexual attraction for her. Does she know you like girls perhaps? Oh, of course not. “Gaydar” is not a fucking thing.

_Plnk!_

Your eyes widen at the big, black, _knotted dildo_ that casually falls from one of her bags, and this time you get a good look at her face. She curses loudly, turns, swipes up the explicit toy, and shoves it back inside, flashing you a gorgeous set of large, piercing green eyes. You blink, almost mesmerized by the elegant shape of her face, her hollow cheekbones, her regal nose, her softly shaped plump lips and deep-set cupid’s bow. She’s… fucking perfect.

Whoops.

Wow. Even her voice could make angels sing. It’s lower and smooth, husky yet even, like spilling honey. You snap out of it, shrug, and smile awkwardly before spinning around to rapidly finish unpacking. Just so she can’t see how red your face has gotten.

Your roommate’s name is Trent. Doesn’t seem like it would be unisex name, but it is and it suits her. She’s a quiet sort, brooding when she studies or manages to talk, playful when she wants to be. Countless times you have watched her from over your laptop, reading (probably Nietzsche or Sartre or Kant- philosophy class?) or writing avidly, unfailingly. You wonder what she writes. Sometimes you catch her humming interesting tunes when she walks in from a long day of school. Her singing voice is both angelic and demonic if that could be considered a thing.

One time you caught her masturbating.

Tonight after weeks and weeks of finally getting to know one another, the both of you dim the lights wishing you had candles and form a pillow and blanket fort to study together while watching whatever television series isn’t hot right now. Tonight Trent gets bold, blunt, tells you she knows what you think of her. You ask her if she feels the same.

What would you like me to do to show you?

Face flushed, you build up the courage to tap your lips and order her to kiss you. When she grins, you can almost see the devil, and somehow you don’t mind.

Her lips are soft when they meet yours, touching gently but surely like she knows exactly what she’s doing. They mold to yours, and you quickly respond, sighing into her mouth and moving your hands up to grip her upper arms. Trent is more brazen than you, reaches under your shirt, fondles you a little and emitting a sigh from your lips when the both of you break away. Cute, you hear her say and you moan some more, your breathing becoming heavier when you notice her slender fingers fumbling with the waistband of your sweatpants. In response to her wordless request, you lay back and raise your hips, head reeling that this was actually fucking happening. Trent removes your pants quickly and then crosses her hands at the hem of her plain black t, taking it off smoothly. She’s not wearing a bra this time, and your mouth instantly waters.

You never thought that a study session would end up with your hot roommate’s finger in your cunt. She marvels over how wet you are, gazes at you through lidded eyes glazed in lust and then abruptly adds a second finger, forcing a squeak out of you. As soon as she hears it, Trent sits up on her knees, shoving her fingers deeper and rougher into your dripping cunt and frantically uses her other hand to take off her sweatpants and underwear. She’s naked. Your roommate is naked hovering over you, lifting one of your legs to rest on her shoulder and sliding herself in between your thighs, entangling herself with you. As soon as you feel the friction she gives as her hips gyrate against you, you fling your head back and let out a high-pitched, whiny moan. Trent purrs in response and begins a steady rhythm, turning her head to sweetly kiss your calf. Minutes pass of pleasure as the both of you rock together, desperate to catch that orgasm that’s only a second away.

You sit up to gain more power, flipping her on her back, turning the tables, and rub your sexes faster together, ushering a pleasured squeal from her perfect lips. The sounds she make grow in volume especially when she feels your mouth on her tits, something you’ve imagined doing since the two of you met.

Waves and waves of pleasure, pure ecstasy wash over the both of you as you moan in unison, slowing down, twitching and writhing in your high. Trent’s eyelids flutter. You gasp, chest heaving, and let go of her. There’s a moment’s pause before she sits up and offers a sweet, quick kiss to your wet lips before moving to get dressed.

That same night, she lets you cuddle her to sleep but asks you one last question, a hint of mischief in her voice.

You wanna use the dildo next time?

You laugh.


	207. Sex and Weed

Trent holds the lit and softly smoking joint between two fingers, two long, slender, piano fingers, eyeing it with some sort of child-like interest or holy reverence like he’s in a Shakespeare tragedy, and you cannot help but wonder how he can always look so artistic and beautiful in everything that he does. Needless to say, you are already high.

The moan he makes when he brings the spliff to his lips, inhales deeply sounds far more louder and carnal in your ears than reality normally makes it out to be. The sound itself hits you like a glorious slap to the face, like he did it himself, make you call him ‘Daddy’. It’s only natural that marijuana makes one feel some sort of way that does not go along the lines of what is considered ‘natural’, but to you, it makes you feel aroused. Trent arouses you. Trent sitting across from you on your bed smoking pot arouses you, draws you in that normal words from your lips can’t be formed. But you’re high. You don’t want to speak the words. You want to taste them. Taste them from his lips, drink him in.

Trent releases the smoke through his nose, blows the rest out through his mouth, right in your face. It smells weird; of course it would to you. You haven’t done this sort of thing a lot.

God, you’re high.

Trent snorts when he says it, but this time he sounds far away, so you move closer; you’re basically in his lap, underwear rubbing against the bulge in his boxers. The sound of his breath hitching in your ear sends spikes of euphoria down your spine, trailing in your guts, swimming like fluttering fish in your tummy and sending pleasure straight down to your groin. A small, soft purr rolls off your lips, and Trent tightens his grip on your upper arms, around your back, burying his face in your neck.

Your hair smells _so fucking good_.

Moaning some more, Trent hands you the joint and focuses on your neck, leaving quick, sensual kisses. You sigh and take another drag, letting your eyes roll back in pleasure while his lips mouth over your skin. _So soft…_ His voice is urgent, like he just can’t get enough of you, like he could fucking eat you. Trent makes his point by licking and playfully nipping at the skin under your jaw and behind your ear. One hand travels down to your breast, and he notices you’re not wearing a bra. He hums knowingly, mouth and teeth and tongue exploring more of your throat.

You lean your head back in response, arching your back, pressing your body closer to him, and whimpering out his name. It’s honey on your tongue. Once Trent has gotten his fill of your neck, he moves his lips across your collarbone, sweetly kisses your shoulder, and then settles for your forearm for some reason. You watch him through lidded eyes, bring the spliff to your mouth, inhale, and then blow it down towards the top of his head. Trent remains undeterred, his attention on the tender skin of your arm almost vampiric. It creeps you out but remains sensual; his mouth feels good on your flesh. He is eating you, but you don’t seem to care. He can do whatever he wants.

Trent takes the makeshift cig from you, blows a puff of smoke at the your chest and then kisses in between, making you shiver. He’s sort of making it hard to breathe and that’s when you hear those two little words.

Wanna fuck?


	208. First Snowfall

You wake up, and Trent is not next to you in bed like he normally would be this morning. The brightness that glimmers from the window makes you crack your eyes opening, blinking in the white light of the sun hidden by puffy clouds like cotton balls. A perfect winter’s day with not a patch of blue in sight. You like it that way, so you stretch, sit up, and make your way to the window.

It’s snowing.

You smile a little, observing the white flurries that swirl and dance lazily. Doesn’t seem windy out. Then you squint your eyes. Looks like there’s someone jumping around in all that white; a blanket of soft, fluffy white layers and caresses the ground sweetly, perfectly like a gentle, cold hug from the heavens. You giggle a little. The person bounds and leaps through the soft hills, trudges through at least six inches of snow, trips a little and manages to fall flat on their face in a heap of glistening white. You chuckle some more when they raise their head and shake the snow out of it and then finally notice who it is. Instead of getting up, Trent rolls over onto his back in an immobile heap and simply lays there, staring up at the pale, unblemished sky.

When you finally don your jacket, hat, and gloves and rush outside, Trent lifts his head and smiles gleefully, grinning from ear to ear.

Haven’t seen this much snow since I left Pennsylvania, he calls out to you, in such a cheerful voice, you start to beam yourself.

Are we throwing snowballs then? Trent doesn’t answer your question until after a few seconds to which he sighs, closes his eyes, and starts to make a snow angel, a content smile on his lovely face.

Not yet. Just wanna lay here for a bit.

The snow ball to his face changes his mind instantly, and Trent springs to his feet, hauling up as much snow in his arms as he can carry, chasing a laughing you at lightning speed. Snow hits your back and hair, shoots over your head to which you squeal happily for the first time in a long time. He certainly seems happy. Trent’s eyes gleam mischievously while he busies himself with making another snow ball. Doesn’t really get too far with another one to the face, so he hurries to claim his revenge. You shriek in glee as Trent charges for you, tackles you to the ground, the both of you rolling around together aimlessly in the snow.

You settle eventually, lying on top of him, legs entangled like a couple of knots, breaths mingling, the only thing aside from your coats and hats that keeps you a little warm. Trent’s nose is red from the cold, so you sweetly kiss it, ushering a content smile from him. Some days it’s difficult to get a smile out of him; he’s seemed so down lately, but this one day, just for the two of you, is perfect, utterly and absolutely perfect. You kiss him again, this time on the lips, and he reciprocates the intimate gesture, wrapping his hands and arms around you, the extra padding from his gloves and jacket making him feel like a cuddly teddy bear.

The both of you remain that way for what seems like an eternity until Trent presses his nose against yours, caresses your cheek, and asks you if you want to go in for some hot chocolate.

You giggle. Doesn’t sound like a bad idea.


	209. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains incest. I do not condone. Don't read if easily triggered.

Brian knows it’s not his first drink- hell, he knows it won’t be his last. He is a growing young man, finally legal enough to drink, so Brian can’t help but allow him to indulge in his vices just a little bit tonight. It is his birthday after all, and as always Brian feels that overwhelming sense of pride for his only son.

The lights are dim in the bar; Brian watches the lights flicker over Trent’s face while Trent watches the local bands play, often turning to offer his distinguished opinion or praise about whichever one he chose. Brian knew his interests, he mused with a small smile while casually taking a sip of his beer, and quite frankly, a Maroon 5 tribute band was anything but ideal. Running his fingers through his short hair, Brian chuckles lightly, admiring the slight wrinkle of Trent’s nose and raised eyebrows of disinterest and distaste. Then he blindly reaches for his own beer, lips mouthing at the rim before he takes a sip through elegantly shaped lips. And Brian realizes he’s been staring.

When they talk, it seems like forever since they had gotten a single word in edgewise between each other. Trent’s been away at college, finally home, a junior, summer just around the corner to celebrate his twenty-first birthday. And Brian’s missed him, he’d like to say, in a fatherly way, but for some reason, after all that has happened, he knows the fucking truth.

Someone new decides to play an entirely acoustic version of Mazzy Star’s “Fade into You”, and in the blissful moment, Brian feels his son’s hand reach out and rest over his own.

They both return home, mildly buzzed, just starting to obtain sobriety, and Trent slugs in first, laughing over something that was said prior; the both of them can’t remember what. He’s in the middle of the living room, letting his leather jacket fall to the floor in a heap when Brian finally walks in after him, setting his car keys on the lone table and observing the lone figure in the shadows, feet shuffling quite a bit nervously for someone so seemingly calm. The alcohol was wearing off for them both, they realized. Brian turns to the side, flips the switch, blinking in the blaring light of the kitchen, but he hears Trent’s husky voice break through in contradiction, and he knows, without a doubt, that there’s something that he wants. It’s in the tone, soft, quiet, urgent.

Leave the lights off.

Brian obeys. That better?

Trent nods his head wordlessly; Brian can hardly make it out in the darkness, so he takes a step further, closer towards him, just to catch a glimpse of his face. He finally turns to look at him, and they both seem so close, nearly nose to nose if Trent wasn’t so short, and Brian notices the faint glimmer in Trent’s green eyes against the darkness of the room. The emotion that floods the irises is unrecognizable, daring, pressing all the same.

Brian loses that connection instantly as soon as he watches his son sink to his knees.


	210. Happy Valentine's Day

He’s been like this all morning since waking you up to the fresh, soothing scent of hot chamomile tea and orchids. Instead of chocolate, he had promised something better, and now here you are, lying against the pillows, writhing and moaning shamelessly in the privacy of his home.

Trent lies on his stomach, ass slightly raised in the air teasingly while he takes to eating you for the next fifteen minutes. Been fifteen minutes already, you think to yourself while you feel his tongue slip inside for the millionth time. How can he remain so resilient? Seems like he’s going for a world record, an hour or something. His only goal right now is to give you pleasure and bliss. Earlier you sweetly asked if he wanted you to do anything for him, but that’s the thing about Trent Reznor. His selflessness could be the reason why you remained with him all these long, beautiful, almost euphoric years. It’s only about you today, Trent insists and goes to work.

Fuck! Trent! you hear yourself shriek and the peak of your orgasm hits you like a shattering waterfall.

Trent tightens his arms, crooked around your thighs and smooths his hands over your skin while his mouth stays at the place he knows can give you the most pleasure. He soothes you through it, lips kissing over your flesh tenderly. Satisfied and releasing soft moans through your high, you arch your back, placing your hands over his and shoving his face in deeper as his perfect, wet tongue slows to a more sensual, comfortable pace.

Can I give you another?

You nod wordlessly, watching him, through eyes filled, glazed over in lust, wipe his mouth and kiss his way up your tummy towards your chest, turning his head to the side to nuzzle your neck and offer sweet kisses and kitten licks there as well. His lips meet your open mouth and the taste of you lingers on his tongue which curls against yours. You sigh blissfully in response between kisses, feeling his hands all over you, fingers stroking and tickling you, reaching inside you in attempts to chase that last orgasm.

You feel me? Feel me inside you?

Again you nod, teeth sinking into your lower lip, eyes squeezed shut tight. Trent swallows your many moans and whimpers, fingers working you from the inside out, and you roll your hips to match his earnest enthusiasm. Encouraging you on, Trent shove in a third finger, like he’s trying to go in even deeper, reach something inside you you have never reached yourself. It’s more than intimate; it’s primal, animalistic. Trent looks like he could eat you alive, and you almost wish fervently that he would. Not once yet has he asked to come, but you notice his obvious hard-on, and your mouth waters.

Come inside me?

Trent practically growls like a wild animal and captures your lips one last time with his, drinking you in like the finest wine he could swallow. The heat between the two of you radiates like some sort of sparking embers, a fire just waiting to blaze that had been impatiently waiting since thirty minutes ago.

Happy Valentine’s Day, he whispers huskily, a throaty sigh making it’s way into your mouth as he kisses you again and plunges in.


	211. Lost?

He looks lost. Utterly lost, and for some reason it makes you giggle and smile watching him. It’s no secret that your country is on the map for rockstars everywhere. You’ve seen them all. Probably met them all from Guns n Roses to Motley Crue to even obscure new wave goth bands like Siouxie and the Banshees and Bauhaus. But these guys in particular, they look a little different, a bit new. You’ve probably never even heard their music before. But you have to admit to yourself; they look cute, especially the short, obviously annoyed one holding the map.

They’re standing outside their bus, the tall one with the dreads looking over the short one’s shoulder while the one with the facial hair busily chats with the long-haired one. The one with the short blonde hair sits by the curb, drinking water and casually listening to the first two quietly argue over which way they’re supposed to go. You suppose it’s time to make your move, you think as you smile secretively to yourself. They’re all pretty good looking, but it’s the smaller one that you want. He looks like someone who’s always been in control but can’t wait to sit back and let someone else take the wheel for a change.

The tall dreaded man notices you first, offers a small grin while the shorter man looks over and grimaces in a sort of embarrassed way.

We’re lost, he tells you flatly.

That’s what you’re here for, you reassure him, taking the map from his hands- really nice hands you think to yourself. Strong. Large. Long fingers. Biting down on your lower lip, you return your focus to where they need to be.

The band is called Nine Inch Nails, and while the shorter one introduced all his band mates to you, you only caught his name. Trent. Trent Reznor. What a harsh sounding name, yet oddly beautiful and alien.

We have a show tonight. _His eyes are so green._ If you wanted to come.

How can you say no to that? Especially to a face that earnest and sweet. When you say yes, the green in his eyes shimmer as he offers a wide smile. Before Trent makes his way to the bus with the rest of his band mates, he leans over, whispers in your ear. I’ll look for you.

Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails was true to his word as soon as he spotted you, taking you by the hand and leading you towards the backstage common area. He praises you in front of everyone; they wouldn’t have made it if it hadn’t been for you, he introduces you to the gaggle of coked out rockstars. They seem politely uninterested, but Trent is far too enamored of you to even notice. A tall odd-looking individual with long black hair and a lip ring stands shyly in one corner conversing animatedly with another young man with a shaved head. Cute. The only other female in the room is a blonde with wild eyes. She looks jealous and doesn’t seem to have a problem with hiding her emotions. You feel a bit smug, but cling to Trent’s arm for protection; the bitch looks like she could rip your face off. Apparently, Trent has no problem with showing you off to the rest of the world of fame.

The lights are dim in the bathroom, and you can hardly make out Trent’s face in the shadows, but you can definitely hear the sounds he makes when you take him into your mouth again. Soft curses and quiet moans reach your ears to which you smile around him smugly. You want to hear more. Seems like you were correct in your assumptions about him. The man wants to lose control. You simply weren’t aware of the domination he desired.

Do that again.

The order doesn’t seem like an order- more like he’s begging you, fucking please, suck him dry until he’s crying, shooting blanks. Trent’s hands are splayed against the wall at his sides; you still hear little whimpers against the boisterous thumping and whooping of the after party next door. He’s fucking needy, desperate, everything you needed out of a man tonight. Calmly, you release him, teasing him with just the tip of your tongue against his leaking head. His breath hitches in his throat, and the whine that breaks from his lips has you inwardly reeling. Adorable.

Do you wanna come in my mouth?

The offer sends him writhing for more, especially at the way your tongue continues to leave little kitten licks along the underside of his shaft.

Please?

It is the please that lets you give in.


	212. Spoiled

It doesn’t matter that he’s at least twenty years older than you. You’re in love, and that’s all that matters to the both of you. And despite what the Puritans of society may think, you are not child and this is not some sort of predatory relationship. You are in your twenties for Christ’s sake; sometimes in this life of yours, you wish you could go back to your childhood. Trent is the only thing that keeps you present.

The tabloids and paparazzi have their field days the minute the two of you step out onto the public street, walking hand in hand whether it be in t-shirts and jeans down to the local grocery store or black tie getup towards a charity or awards event- and Trent has won plenty of awards; it doesn’t matter. The only time the two of you can get a little bit of privacy is in the bedroom, and maybe that’s part of the reason why you’re with him, the tenderness of when he wants to make love to you or his animalistic ferocity when he tells you he’s going to fuck you now. It’s the latter this time around where he casually sits on the bed fully dressed in his black and his leather and you in only your garters and nylons, just a bit from the lingerie set that he bought you just last week.

You are a treat fit to eat for him, and Trent is ravenous, hands running over your body, grazing your soft skin. Perhaps there is some sort of Daddy complex when he dominates you, him with his age and experience- maybe it’s the facial hair, you with your firm, tight body sitting in his lap and waiting for him to make the next move.

Trent holds you like a doll, and you remember how much you adore being his little fucktoy. That’s what he calls you while he kisses your neck, mouths at your throat, two fingers shoving deep inside you and forcing a quick gasp and moan from your glossy lips. There is no question about the makeup he requests you to wear when the two of you are about to fuck. The more the better, he says, just so he can see your eyeliner run while he spanks the shit out of you. You whine as the thought crosses your mind, which opens you up more for Trent to try for a third finger. He smiles knowingly, a little deviously and curls his fingers, almost as if he finds the button to press and continues to play with it.

Why don’t you fuck my fingers if you’re so desperate, my little whore?

You can only whimper and oblige.

Later that morning, while you lie in his bed, utterly wrecked from the bit of fun earlier, Trent has someone make you breakfast and reaches behind in the drawer of the bedside table to pull out the quaint velvet black box he had been hiding as a gift for you. You wake to pancakes and eggs and bacon, enough breakfast food for the both of you and smile. It’s already a perfect day, and you turn to face him with a smile. The box is open, the set of diamonds winking at you in the sunlight, making you gasp.

Will you wear it tonight?

You nod. He spoils you, you remark, responding to his kisses to your lips and your neck.

I love to spoil you, Trent explains, mouth brushing over hard nipples, forming into a smile at the pathetic reaction his gesture gets. He’s lying on his stomach in between your thighs, lips offering your sex a sweet kiss. You watch him closely.

You deserve to be spoiled.

A small whine escapes your lips as soon as you feel his tongue.


	213. They Get Famous When We Fuck

Brian doesn’t call Trent a little cockslut for nothing, but there has to be a reason, especially when placed in the most compromising situation in his life. Whoever said “secrets, secrets are no fun” fucking lied, but for some reason, Trent watched his plan backfire right before his eyes as soon as Robin sauntered into the room with a calm, cool swagger in his step.

“So one cock alone wasn’t good enough for you?” Trent’s face goes from white to pink to total red in a matter of seconds, and Brian simply smirks.

Fuck.

Turns out fucking two completely different guys behind their backs doesn’t always turn out the way Trent wanted it to. “Brian… how did you… Robin?”

Robin looks smug. “I knew what was going on the entire time, Reznor. If you really thought you could keep this from me, you’re terribly mistaken, babe.”

Trent instantly gulps, swallowing down a lump hard and glances back at Brian, who continues to hold him in his lap so that he’s straddling his waist. One hand reaches down, the back of it stroking Trent’s side, making him shiver. At the mere touch alone, Trent grunts, aroused, and shifts restlessly against Brian’s crotch.

“Jesus, I’m hard,” Robin groans, palming at his obvious, clothed bulge.

“It’s ok, doll,” Brian reassures Trent, catching him by the chin, forcing his eyes to meet his. “If two cocks is what you wanted this whole time, then two cocks is what you shall receive.” Somehow, the underlying message Brian sends his way makes Trent incredibly nervous, but a strangled groan forces him back to the present as the man below him busily rubs at his own naked dick. Robin suppresses an aroused moan and approaches them both, getting into position behind Trent and stroking his smooth, pale, unblemished back with his palms. Goosebumps fan out over every inch of Trent’s skin and another whimper bursts from his lips.

“You look even smaller now than you did before,” Robin remarks, his hands coming up over Trent’s shoulders and smoothing down his chest. “But I don’t think you mind that, do you? I suppose it’s always been a secret fantasy of yours to be manhandled. You make it so easy.” Robin’s voice is soft, purring, lilting in Trent’s ear and he cocks his head, giving him more access to his slender neck to which Robin lays sweet, quick kisses over every inch of it.

“I think he wants it,” Brian muses to Robin, but his dark, glittering eyes stay trained on Trent’s face, which grows more and more aroused by the minute. Robin hums in ascent and meets Brian’s hand down at Trent’s crotch. Trent gives a short cry, his own breath hitching in his throat and then hears Brian unscrewing the cap to the lube. “Lift up for me, angel.” Brian’s voice has reduced to a purr in league with Robin’s, and Trent hastily obeys, seeing stars already at the sensation of the hands roaming his body and the fingers circling teasingly around his entrance. His own hands grip Brian’s shoulders as those fingers plunge in.

“Good thing I got you prepped beforehand, hm?” Brian rasps in Trent’s ear, moving in to press his entire body against his while he fingers him. “We don’t have any patience tonight.” Trent is pretty sure the “we” is referring to Robin and Brian, and his blush returns.

“Leave room for me,” Robin smirks, sucking on two fingers before reaching down to enter Trent with Brian.

“Hah…! Fuck…” Trent instantly sucks in a breath at the sudden stretch and squeezes his eyes shut at the sensation of burning pain.

Clicking his tongue, Brian moves his head down to bite and suck at hard, little nipples, moaning at the fucking  _taste_ of Trent’s body. “In order for this to work, it has to be this way, princess.”

Trent lets out a sob-like moan just when they remove their fingers, falling back against Robin’s chest perhaps for some sort of comfort. Brian merely takes that as his chance to enter him with his own cock slowly. He nods to Robin, who reaches for the bottle of lube and gently rolls his hips, bucking up sharply into Trent. “Can’t wait to see you bouncing up and down on both of our cocks.”

Trent gulps, only gasping as two of Robin’s slick fingers attempt to make their way into his ass alongside Brian’s thick member. “Wait…”

“Shh… just relax,” Robin croons, kissing his cheek. “I’ll go slow.”

“I wish you could see just how much your pretty ass opens up for us, Trent,” Brian marvels.

“One of a kind,” Robin muses with a hum, and Trent already feels his lubed-up cock lining up with Brian’s.

If minutes were hours, then hours would be days with the way Robin managed to slide his entire dick inside of him. He holds on, steadying himself with a hand at Trent’s back for leverage while Trent keeps Brian pinned, nails digging cruelly but desperately into his shoulders. If Brian would have wanted him quiet, he would have been sorely disappointed. Trent moans to no end, and those moans become cries of pain and then growls of pain-filled pleasure. As soon as he feels Robin make it all the way inside, it’s as though a flash of blinding light meets his eyes.

“Shit… shit, shit, shit… oh fuck!” Trent babbles nonsensically, sweat pouring from his temples, eyes large in shock. It takes all the kisses and all the hands caressing to at least try and calm him down.

Robin looks thoughtful for a moment after burying his nose in Trent’s hair. “You know, Warner, he doesn’t seem much like a princess to me anymore.”

“Of course not,” Brian pipes up, rolling his hips up again just to get a squeak out of him. “More like a needy, little cockslut- isn’t that right, Trent?”

Lips pressed together, teeth threatening to bite down hard on his lower lip from the extreme stretch in his ass, Trent surrenders and nods quietly without a word.

“Then say it.” Brian sounds demanding, hard this time.

Much to their delight, he whines out, “I’m a needy little cockslut! One dick just isn’t enough for me.”

“Want us to fuck you like one?” Robin chimes in this time.

Trent doesn’t even have to nod before one begins thrusting in after the other.


	214. Wedding Night

That morning when you woke up, you had turned over to see Trent smiling sweetly at you, tenderly running the back of his hand against your shoulder. It wasn’t the most perfect day for a wedding; the sky was cloudy, and it was still fairly cold out, but there had been just something about the way Trent looked at you that made you long to be his for the rest of your life and he as yours. It was Trent who said it first.

I want to marry you today.

It had been a simple wedding, only the closest family and friends that could make it; your family on one side of the courthouse staring begrudgingly at Trent’s friends on the other side, rather his bandmates. Almost like a forbidden love. You both didn’t have rings, so Brian offered two of his, and you look back and laugh at how funny it was to have a pentacle on your temporary wedding ring. Brian had stood at Trent’s side as his best man occasionally placing his large hand on his shoulder encouragingly. The sight of the two of them like that warmed your heart, and you had almost felt a twinge of loneliness, looking to your left side and seeing no one there. Your parents didn’t exactly approve of this shotgun wedding, but Trent’s hand reaching for yours, warming it with his love made your heart nearly burst.

Robin played a closing wedding anthem on his guitar just as soon as your lips touched, and then the doors were opened for your new life together, allowing you to walk through both with beaming smiles on your faces.

This night, no matter how many nights the two of you had been together, Trent looks at you with soft eyes, fiddling with the large ring on his finger that Brian loaned him. Not like him to feel this nervous in the bedroom with you. It’s a new change for the both of you, knowing that you will be spending the rest of your lives together. Again, Trent takes the back of his hand, runs it down your cheek this time before leaning forward to kiss you gently, like you are made of porcelain or glass, easily made to shatter, and he never wants to hurt you.

You kiss him back eagerly, the two of you entwined tightly as if you could never let the other go. His large, warm hands roam your back and shoulders, slender, piano fingers caressing and stroking you, urging soft sighs of bliss to run off your tongue.

He loves you. So much.

Trent whispers those three little words in your ear, warm, sweet breath wafting over the soft skin of your jaw and behind your ear. Goosebumps jump at the sound of his husky voice, and you shiver, wondering, hoping you’ll feel this happy every time you hear him say it. Something inside you assures you that you always will, no matter what; Trent brings out the best in you, your other half, your complete opposite, bringing the balance for this relationship. And now you are married. And Trent cannot keep his hands and lips off of you.

I love you too.

Every time he hears those same words in your voice, a little piece of him bursts with a happiness he never thought he’d experience ever again. You are the reason he stays alive. Trent’s lips envelope yours once more, drinking you in, drunk with love for you, and softly, gently, you feel those guiding, comforting hands direct you towards the bed.

I don’t want this moment to end.


	215. First Rim Job

Trent fully clothed with an obvious erection is nice. Trent completely and utterly naked tentatively rubbing at his erection while giving you watchful eyes makes your mouth water, and you will be putting that mouth to good use sooner rather than later. When you approach him domineeringly in you high-heeled stilettos, you sneer at the good height difference between the two of you. Trent’s minuscule, vulnerable stature pleases you; he was practically made to be manhandled, you think, noticing the doe-eyed look he gives you once you tower over him.

No more touching.

A whimper escapes his lips, pink tongue flicking out to lick them, and he gazes up at you shyly, reluctantly removing his hands and resting them stiffly at his sides, posture prostrate and docile.

Lay back, baby.

Trent obeys instantly, eagerly. He gets up on the soft mattress of the bed, the gentle creak resonating in both your ears and falls back against the sheets. A soft sigh falls from his soft-looking lips; you could kiss them if you wanted to but it is not your main focus at the moment. Trent realizes that as soon as he feels the palms of your hands smooth up his thighs, lifting his legs bent at the knees, spreading them wide and giving you easy access. You groan inwardly at the sight of his leaking cock and then look at a little closer at his quivering hole just begging for your mouth. This is honestly the only time you would ever get on your knees for him.

The warm, wet sensation of your tongue against his entrance sends him into immediate spasms, so much that his chest heaves and his tummy stutters.

Never had your ass licked? You grin and lave your tongue up once more.

Trent’s eyebrows are furrowed as he sits up, watching you tongue his ass. Feels weird. His response makes you giggle.

Spread your cheeks a little wider for me, baby doll. Let me see that pussy.

Trent bites down hard on his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood, and does as he’s told with a quiet ‘yes, mommy’. You hum in response and flick your tongue teasingly against his cute, little hole. You have never really heard Trent squeak before, but you definitely want to hear that same noise out of him again, especially considering the differences in tone of his normal husky voice. Slowly, gently, ever so sensually, you swirl that wet muscle around the rim of his entrance in small circles and feel him fall back against the mattress in defeat. His hand reaches down to grasp his fully hard cock, but you bat him away and spit at his hole abruptly.

Ah, ah, ah… Turn over. Hands and knees.

Much better access, you think appreciatively and satisfied, you run your hands over his cheeks, giving them a good firm smack and squeeze before going back in as avidly as before.

Ohh… Trent’s moans increase in volume and he watches from behind, feeling himself grow harder and harder with each licking and sucking sound that you mouth and tongue makes.

Can I touch myself, Mommy?

His plea ends in another squeak and groan. You slide your middle finger in all the way up to the knuckle and click your tongue, thinking of how you should answer.

No, angel. Let me.


	216. Having Problems in the Bedroom?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on an episode of Shameless where Lip struggles to get hard. 
> 
> But my own little twist.

The first few dates with Trent Reznor are blissful, fun, adventurous, but you can certainly sense a hesitance with him, even when he tries to get to know you. He’s soft spoken most of the time or when he needs to be, and sometimes it’s much harder to get him to open up. You can certainly tell that he wants to get to know you more, that he wants to start a relationship with you even, but there is blockage in that respect. It’s not that he’s shy or he doesn’t even want to fuck you. But there is a negative memory of some sort that weighs in between the two of you.

Unfortunately, you don’t know what it is, don’t know how you can help.

Opportunity arises the moment he walks in one day. Living together and you still haven’t fucked, you think to yourself. You do not want to pressure him, far from it, but you are on a thin wire that could snap from sexual frustration at any moment.

Trent flops down on the couch with a huff and an exhausted sigh, looking absolutely positively drained simply from the full day itself. There has been a blockage in writing, any sort of creativity in general, especially to get this album done. It just does not seem like Trent has any sort of motivation for anything, like he could just waste away from disuse. You refuse to continue to see him this way, allow him to get worse. Time’s up for him in his misery, you decide as you mentally dust yourself off and approach the couch he lays on carelessly. He is mumbling to himself with his head in his hands, and his voice seems to casually grow louder in frustration and even anger.

I was the one in control… I was… and he just… used me to the limit. Like I was his little fucking cumrag, on his way to the fucking pedestal. Fucked me one last time in the ass- literally! And then left me staring helplessly at the sidelines. He didn’t care that I was hurting too and he… FUCK! Goddamn CUNT! Little fucking bitch!

Hmm, interesting…

Trent chokes out the words, insults but not in a pained way. There is almost a sigh of relief afterwards, and you can definitely feel all that negative energy from his words dissipate in the air, fizzle out. They are gone forever, and Trent lays back with another huff, arm blocking over his eyes.

Feel better?

Trent knew you were there the entire time during his vent, and he slowly lowers his arm, stares at you blankly.

Sorry.

You shrug. Need me to make you feel better?

Don’t know if you can help much, Trent mumbles barely coherently. I can’t…

Saying these words are harder; you can tell as you sit down on the couch with him, observing his immobile form and reaching over to brush some hair from his eyes.

Can’t get hard? I’ve noticed.

Trent reddens, looking rueful and turns away, but you don’t take that as you grab him by the chin, make him look you in the eye. I asked you if you needed any help.

Slowly, Trent nods, not that he’s suddenly afraid of you but he has never witnessed this dominance from you in the few weeks that the two of you have been together. So he gives in, almost eagerly when you tell him to sit up, remove his clothes, lay back and stay still. His pathetic, limp appendage lies between his legs uselessly, which you observe with fierce curiosity, daring to run two fingers along the shaft. Trent stares at your soft yet lewd gesture and automatically spreads his legs, arms and hands laying lifelessly at his sides; you’re in control, and perhaps that is what he needed all along. Spitting into your hand, you take action, grabbing ahold of his cock and beginning to pump up and down with a deep concentration.

Like playing pool with a rope, you giggle, and Trent reddens deeper, looking like he is about to protest, that it’s useless, that it’s not going to work, but you are not exactly finished yet. You suck on your middle finger, coating it with your spit, getting it nice and wet, and before Trent realizes what you’re about to do, you carefully yet easily shove it inside, deep, all the way up to the knuckle. Trent gives a little cry of alarm; you watch the muscles below his hips flex and clench, feel him tighten around your finger, making you smile in reassurance. As soon as he starts to relax, you start to move while also keeping a perfect matching rhythm with his cock.

W-w-wait! Do that again…

You let out a soft, slow ‘oh’, realizing that he _likes_ this. His cock certainly tells you so; you can feel it start to grow in your hand. In fact, after just a few seconds, he is rock hard against your slick palm. Curling your finger just a little bit inside of him, you marvel over how he moves with it, the sweet sounds of arousal he makes. Trent’s hips meet your hand rhythmically; he’s practically fucking it, glistening pre-cum leaking like a faucet from his slit.

That’s it… Almost there…

Trent is spurred on by your words of encouragement, tries to fuck your finger as well. Gonna-

No, no, no. Just hold on a little bit, baby.

Trent cries in protest; he’s right on the fucking edge, a sheen of sweat over his forehead and his chest.

Looks like I found something, you tease, continuously rubbing that fucking finger over his sweet spot. Trent whines through closed lips and raises his arm over his head to grasp at anything, the arm rest of the couch, a pillow, anything.

All right, angel. Come for me.

A sob-like moan breaks from Trent’s wet lips as he comes, spewing out all over his tummy and chest. You gasp in awe, milk him through it while watching him twitch and writhe beneath your hungry gaze. Finally.

Humming contently to yourself, you get up, leaving him in his high.

You’re welcome. Meet me in the bedroom for some more intimate one on one time.


	217. BBB

Are those my boots?

Perfect timing. You catch Trent right in the middle of work, music, recording, trying to write, and after all the curses you heard made under his breath in frustration, you think it’s high time you come to save him, give him a little relief. When he sees you approach, the irritation leaves his eyes instantly, and he almost smiles. Instead Trent looks rueful, apologizing profusely for being so busy, for getting practically nothing done, for fucking up all the time. Oh no, you can’t and won’t hear any of that.

Shh…

One finger to his perfectly sculpted lips is all it takes for him to immediately grow silent, staring up at you in anticipation; he already knows you have something up your sleeve.

I want to play.

Getting Trent on his knees is no difficult task; he is born to serve you as his mistress, pleased to do it without question, knowing that you will always protect him, respect his limits and boundaries, pleasure him to his content and yours as well. His eyelids are already lidded in lust, fluttering ever so coyly up at you, and you somewhat pet the side of his face like he were a kitten, a gesture of endearment for your precious little fucktoy, raising his chin to look you deep in the eyes, acknowledge your apparent dominance in the room. Work is over for now. His main focus should be you and you alone at this point.

Looks like someone needs to get off, hmm?

Trent doesn’t reply, but you can certainly tell; his fingers are fucking itching to just touch his cock and he just wants to relax, but there’s a little twist with his reward.

Go on. Leave it. It’s not important now, sweetheart. Touch yourself for me.

As obedient as ever, the perfect, angelic submissive, Trent pulls out his already half hard length and begins to pump up and down, stroking with skillful fingers. He’s already on edge it seems, masturbating at such a fast pace, too fast, but you continue to watch him eagerly, giggling at the sight of his tense muscles and the sweet sounds he makes, close enough to fucking come. Trent sighs out, strained in the back of his throat, but he doesn’t dare come yet. He knows you have not given your permission.

Oh, you will be able to come, baby doll. But you’re coming all over these.

You indicate the boots you’re wearing, significantly high platforms and tap your toe repeatedly on the ground. Trent instantly wets his lips, his arousal evident in his voice as he begins to speak.

Can I clean them up for you after?

You raise your eyebrows. Good, good, _good_ boy.

Without any hesitation whatsoever, Trent alights from the chair and gets down on his knees in front of your boots, working at his cock frantically, hand pumping up and down at the speed of sound. You gasp softly watching as ropes of white, hot cum shoot out from Trent’s rock hard cock and splatter on your boots. Would taste much better hot and fresh down your throat, but then again, Trent is the one cleaning it up, and it is much more entertaining watching your precious sub lean over to lap up at the sticky, white substance from your big black boots.

Squeaky clean, you mutter, raising his chin from his task that he seems to be enjoying too much. Did you swallow it, sweetheart?

Trent opens his mouth, sticking out his tongue. Good little whore, you hum.


End file.
